Classes in Life
by DelusionalGrandeur
Summary: The war is over and Harry is facing a challenge more daunting than hunting Horcruxes. He has to learn how to live with everyday problems that seem lacking without a malicious madman behind them. Why is being a teenager so troublesome? Slash SSHP
1. Chapter One

Summary: The war is over and Harry is facing a challenge more daunting than hunting Horcruxes. He has to learn how to live with everyday problems that seem lacking without a malicious madman behind them. Why is being a teenager so troublesome? Slash SSHP

I've got quite a few stories that I'm working on, most of them fairly long. This is one of the longer ones, but I'm trying to pace posting chapters. Otherwise, I'll get everything I've written posted and there will end up being a big, long, nasty wait while I slowly update. Hope you enjoy it!

Chapter One

Harry was tired—not just tired—exhausted. It was the sort of brutal exhaustion that made him want to crawl into bed and sleep for twenty-some-odd years just like that man in the muggle fairy tale. However, there was no time to rest. In three days he was due on the train at Kings Cross, and he had yet to even _think_ about starting to get ready for the upcoming school year, which was why he was hurriedly making his way through Diagon Alley to meet Ron and Hermione outside of Gringotts.

It had been a hectic summer.

He thought his role was complete when the curses stopped flying and Voldemort's lifeless body had lain prone before him. He had been sorely mistaken.

When the smoke had cleared from the final battle, another battle was just begun—only this was a battle of paperwork, of criminal trials, hunting down rogue death eaters, and just trying to establish some sort of _order_ in the chaos left in the wake of the darkest wizard the world had ever known. And Harry had plunged headfirst into the battle—grudgingly and resentfully—but willingly all the same.

It hadn't been easy—the wizarding world was clamoring for blood. It had taken a rather passionate and angry _Man-Who-Defeated-The-Dark-Lord_—Harry still scoffed at the ridiculous evolution of his 'nick-name'—to stop the proverbial witch hunt that would have sent many people to Azkaban without a second glance and without a trial. Only Harry's plea to 'see the difference between justice and revenge' and to 'not start the new world on hate and malice' had been able to cool the fires—not to mention the fact that Harry had quite literally fought tooth, nail and hex-that-makes-you-doubt-your-sanity-for-trying-to-fight-the-man-who-kicked-Voldemorts-ass to stop the Aurors from snatching an unconscious Snape from St. Mungos and hauling him strait to Azkaban.

It had taken Harry three days of guarding the near-death potions master and hexing every Auror into oblivion before Kingsley had shown up and demanded an answer for his unruly behavior. Harry had dutifully explained Snape's role in the war, begged for a fair trial, and had testified at said trial under veritiserum. Before Snape had even woken up from his 'ordeal' he had been cleared of all charges, much to Harry's relief—though the relief was short lived when time drew on and Snape _still_ didn't wake up. But at the very least he had been hailed as a tragic hero, and Harry was finally able to cease his constant vigil over the man with the confidence that the healers wouldn't dare become negligent.

Then the real battles had begun.

Harry had been called to testify—over and over again—sometimes at trials of people he didn't even know. Then had come the Malfoy Trials.

Harry had testified honestly, and had pled the case of all three Malfoys—not for complete exoneration—but for leniency. And their sentences had been lenient—comparatively.

Draco had been sentenced to three years of probation with the provision that he had to complete his seventh year at Hogwarts. In that time he also had to complete 4,500 hours of community service—something Hermione had suggested to the Wizangamot. It was a new concept to the wizarding world—but was accepted with much gusto. The idea of a punishment that helped heal and rebuild the war torn society—well, it was what everyone needed.

Lucius Malfoy had nearly faced the executioners ax—or more likely the dementors kiss. It was only his own cooperation and Harry's word that kept him from the grim, final punishment. Instead, he was facing life imprisonment. Narcissa had been allotted five years of probation and her magic had been irrevocably bound.

There were others, though, that Harry had been unwilling and unable to help—though he had tried his very best to get rid of the dementors once and for all. He reminded the ministry how easy it had been for Voldemort to sway the loyalty of the vile creatures—yet in the end there just wasn't a feasible alternative.

Harry had finally been ready to step back and take a much-needed break when his own trial came up. He wasn't ashamed to admit that he definitely _hadn't_ been expecting that. But the Goblin Nation had every right to go after Harry for breaking into Gringotts—regardless of whether it was for the greater good or not.

But the ministry wasn't willing to give their 'Savior' up and Kingsley had been worried about stressing the tetchy relations between Wizards and Goblins—so Harry had taken it upon himself to try and negotiate a settlement with the Goblins outside of the court.

It had been—well—not a disaster, but Harry still came out of it feeling like he had been robbed blind.

The Goblins hadn't really cared that Harry had stolen something from Bellatrix Lestrange—it was more the principle that he had done so under their noses. They clearly wanted to send a message that _no one—_defeater of Voldemort or not—would be allowed to get away with robbing Gringotts.

It was in the middle of the negotiations that news came of Snape's return to the land of living. Harry had sent Hermione and Ron to go see him to make sure he was doing alright while he remained to finish the business with the Goblins. Much to his humiliation, Harry had completely broken down in front of the delegation of Goblins and Kingsley. He sobbed out an apology, and told them _why_ he had broken into the Lestrange vault—the real reason. It was the first time he had told anyone aside from Ron and Hermione about the mission Dumbledore had left him. He even sniveled out an apology to Griphook for trying to double-cross him and keep the sword despite their agreement.

At the end of Harry's break down, the Goblins had left to 'discuss things.' Harry had shamefacedly continued to explain to Kingsley the mission of hunting down the horcruxes. The minister had listened, barely letting his horror show on his impassive face. The Goblins had returned with the verdict that "Mr. Harry Potter's actions were that of a desperate child trying to accomplish a horrible task that no adult should have ever been asked to do. Considering the enormity of Mr. Harry Potter's undertaking, and the Goblin Nation's own gratefulness that Mr. Potter was successful in his attempt at defeating the Dark Lord and his _unsavory_ dark magic, the Goblin Nation will gladly let the matter drop and reduce their claims to a small fee to compensate for the stolen dragon—though this is also done with the understanding that Mr. Potter will no longer be allowed to bank with the Goblin Nation."

Harry had just blinked at them and nodded his agreement. And there it was—the crisis was averted. There would be no new conflict between the Wizards and the Goblins, and Harry really didn't lose all that much—all things considered. The 'small fee' turned out to be nearly everything in his Gringotts Vault—Harry was left with enough to get him through his last year of school and that was all.

By the time Harry had managed to settle his debt to the Goblins and arrived at St. Mungos, Snape had already checked out. He tried to tell himself that it was understandable, and that he wasn't disappointed—but that was a lie and he knew it. He wasn't sure what he expected from the ex-spy now that everything was in order—but he certainly hadn't expected _nothing!_

Three weeks had passed since then—three mind-numbing weeks of answering more questions, going to more trials—not to mention the unending funerals and memorial services. When McGonagall had stopped by Grimmauld Place to ask him if he was interested in coming back for his missed seventh year, Harry gladly agreed. He needed to get away from _everything_—and another year of classes before he had to face the real world for good—well—it was too tempting to pass up.

Harry kept his head down and stopped at the foot of the white marble stairs that led up to the Goblin Bank. The Goblins hardly glanced at him as he stood fidgeting from one foot to the other. This was the first time he had been out in public since he had defeated Voldemort—and he was trying not to draw attention.

"Harry!"

Harry looked up and grinned at Hermione as she raced down the stairs. Though he had seen her just the previous night, she still threw her arms around him excitedly. Ron followed after her at a slower pace, though his grin was threatening to split his face as he practically strutted in his new _maroon_ Auror Training robes. Ron had been admitted into the program earlier that month—Harry had declined the offer. Now that it was all said and done, he found that he wasn't looking forward to the prospect of hunting dark wizards for a living. He'd had enough of that, thank you very much.

"Alright there, mate?"

Harry smiled tiredly. "I guess. You look good—see! Your mum was right! You do look good in maroon!" Harry laughed as Ron sputtered, going red to the roots of his hair. "It's like she knew…" He trailed off mysteriously in a voice eerily reminiscent of Trelawny before breaking down into another fit of giggles.

Ron punched him half-heartedly in the arm. "Don't point that out to her or I'll never hear the end of it."

Hermione beamed at them. "We'd better get going, or we won't be able to get all our school stuff."

Harry nodded, straitening up. "Hey Ron? Do you think I might be able to borrow some of your old school books seeing as how you won't need them? I lost most of mine—left them at the Dursleys."

Ron nodded. "Sure thing. Some of them are pretty ragged."

"That's okay. I'm just not sure which one's I'll need."

Ron nodded, wrapping an arm around Hermione as they started down the street. Harry smiled warmly at the sight. Hermione was going back to Hogwarts to finish her missed year as well—it was kind of ironic that those two would be separated for the first time in seven years when they had just started dating—officially.

"Ginny's going to meet up with us later." Hermione said, smirking when Harry raised an eyebrow at her. "You guys can take the opportunity to have a heart-to-heart."

Harry grimaced, easily catching her meaning but pretending to ignore her.

Ron shot a puzzled look at them but didn't ask, and Harry was grateful. His friend had come to an understanding since that night that he had overcome Riddle's locket. He knew that Harry and Hermione were friends—good friends but still just friends. Since then he had been unquestioning of the closeness between Harry and Hermione that was partly a result of their time together without Ron.

"I don't have long." Ron muttered as they slipped into the newly reopened Flourish and Blotts. "Auror training is brutal."

Harry nodded, fishing his book list out of his pocket. Everyone in the crowded shop had turned to stare at the trio in awe. Hermione had gone slightly pink, and her hands were shaking as she fished her own book list out of the pocket. Harry shifted uncomfortably as he tried to turn his attention to finding his books, but was suddenly swept up in the rush as people closed in on all sides of him.

"Harry!"

"I love you!"

"Hermione!"

"Marry me!"

"Ron!"

Harry winced, trying to slip back towards the door. Thankfully, Ron stepped in front of him and used a quick 'sonorus' to make himself heard above the rabble.

"Hey! Back off!"

Then the storekeeper appeared, looking immensely pleased with himself as he ushered Harry, Ron and Hermione through the crowd. More people were pouring in the door. "What can I get for you today?"

Harry and Hermione silently exchanged a look and held out their booklists. The man took them in at a glance, before disappearing into the shelves. Harry was pointedly staring away from the crowd that was still barely an arms-length out of reach. Ron was standing protectively in front of Hermione, muttering something that sounded like 'blood-thirsty hyenas!' Harry grinned weakly as the owner returned, levitating a large stack of books ahead of him.

"Here you go!" He beamed at them as Harry and Hermione quickly separated out their individual books. "It's on the house today! A small token of appreciation."

Harry opened his mouth to argue, but Hermione's insistent hand on his arm stopped him. "That is very generous of you, sir. Thank you."

Harry swallowed hard before holding his hand out to the man. "Yes. Thank you." He saw Hermione grin in approval as the man snatched up Harry's offered hand, nearly swooning as he shook it wildly. Harry's smile became strained when the man showed no sign of letting up.

Harry's hand was numb by the time it was released, and it took nearly fifteen minutes for them to edge their way back out of the store. They had a similar experience at the apothecary—though this time when Harry thanked the witch she swooped in on him without warning and kissed him. Full on the mouth.

Harry had just stood there in shock before the blood rushed to his face and the crowd once again started clamoring—he had gotten kissed by three more witches and one wizard on his way out the door and was burning with embarrassment.

"That was wild!" Ron sniggered, ducking when Harry tried to smack him upside the head. "You should have seen your face when that woman kissed you! She was old enough to be your mum!"

Harry frowned, still trying to fight the blush off his face. "What gives people the idea that it's fine to just—just—smack one on me without my permission!?" He shot a glare at a couple of girls that seemed to be inching closer with just that intention. "Seriously! It's like they lose their heads completely and throw all manners out of the window! Or is there some exception I don't know about that says it's okay to snog a complete stranger!?"

Hermione giggled. "Oh Harry. You're a hero."

Harry raised an eyebrow at her. "And that makes it acceptable!? You're a hero too! But I didn't see you getting snogged every which way you turn! Or Ron!"

"That's different. Everyone knows we're spoken for—but seeing as you're still single you're fair game." Ron reasoned, glancing down at his watch. "I have to go. I'll send an owl to mum to get those books together—just stop by tonight. And expect to stay for dinner." He gave Hermione a quick kiss and hurried down the street.

Harry watched him go and warily turned his eye to the crowd that was still lingering. The hungry look in their eyes gleamed darker and Harry shifted nervously closer to Hermione. "So. If it's appropriate for them to rape-kiss me, then it _must_ be appropriate for me to hex them, right?" His voice was purposefully hushed, but loud enough for those nearest to hear.

Hermione smirked as the people closest shifted uncomfortably. "Definitely. Just keep the curses to a mid-to-high moderate level."

"How 'bout high moderate to low critical range." Harry negotiated seriously, though he was sure Hermione saw the laughter in his eyes. There was more shuffling as whispers started passing through the crowd and it slowly broke apart. Though a few stragglers remained, staring at them with glassy eyes. Harry started as he recognized Romilda Vane.

"Where are we meeting Ginny?" He took Hermione's arm and they started walking casually down the street.

"The Leaky Cauldron—but not for another hour." Hermione followed his line of sight and lifted an eyebrow as Romilda followed them. "Which is a good thing. You two desperately need to talk about your relationship." Romilda seemed to lose interest after that, wandering off on her own.

Harry sighed in relief, but frowned at Hermione. "I hardly think the Leaky Cauldron is the spot to have _that_ conversation. Don't want it to end up all over the papers tonight."

Hermione continued smiling. "I know. That's why I booked us a private room."

Harry didn't even try to suppress his groan. "Lovely. You know, I would never have been so open about that if I had any hope of living—it's so not fair of you to hold it over my head."

Hermione just kept smiling. "Life's not fair. And you did tell me, and you're still alive—and I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure you make up for those years you lost while Voldemort was after you."

"You don't need to convince me on that! But I'm not even sure—isn't this a little soon to be having _this_ conversation with Ginny? I mean—I haven't even had a chance to make sure it's real."

Hermione rolled her eyes, suddenly pulling him towards Madam Malkin's. "Harry! I was there with that conversation—I don't see how you have any doubts still. Yeah, I know you didn't really have the luxury of figuring it out the _normal_ way, but it seemed pretty definitive to me."

Harry sighed as his best friend pulled him into the robe shop and thought back to the night in question.

_It was cold—and the cold did nothing to ease the fear that still hung heavily over the two of them as they huddled together in the barren, frozen wasteland. The wind was biting, and they shook as Hermione cast the protection spells before quickly erecting the tent. Harry quickly slipped into the tent, out of the wind._

_They were silent for a long while as the fire slowly warmed the magically enlarged tent. Harry groaned as feeling slowly returned to his limbs that were still aching from their disastrous trip to Godric's Hollow. Hermione was in much the same boat, smiling weakly at him when he caught her eye._

_"I don't know what else to do." Harry admitted quietly. "I don't know what else to try."_

_Hermione just shook her head, though he could see the glimmer of tears in her eyes. "I don't know either, Harry. But—But we'll figure it out. We always do."_

_Harry didn't bother to try to argue, and they were silent for a long time._

_"What are you going to do when this is all over?" Hermione suddenly asked. "When we've destroyed the horcruxes and Voldemort is dead?"_

_Harry shrugged. "I don't know. I haven't really thought about it much—too busy focusing on just getting through this. It's hard to think of the future when I don't think I have one."_

_Hermione purposefully ignored the last comment. "I thought about going to work for the ministry—starting S.P.E.W. as a legitimate branch—and I thought…"_

_Harry listened blankly._

_"Well… For a while I thought I was going to smack some sense into Ron… That I'd break down and ask _him_ out… then maybe we'd get married, have kids, the whole thing… but…" She started crying again, and Harry knew there was nothing he could say that would comfort her. Finally, she wiped her eyes and looked up at him. "What about you. If this war was finished tomorrow—if You-Know-Who was dead—what would you do? Would you marry Ginny? Become an Auror?"_

_Harry was silent for a long time, but slowly answered just when Hermione looked like she was going to start crying again. "I suppose… I don't…" He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "Look. There's no point sugar-coating it… I don't really think I'm going to live through this. If I do… I don't think I'd be happy as an Auror. If I do manage to get through this alive, I want to be done with it—really done with it. No more chasing down dark wizards! And Ginny…"_

_"Yes?" Hermione asked when it became clear that he wasn't going to continue. "Would you pick back up with her?"_

_Harry shook his head slowly. "No. Ginny was… She was great… I was very comfortable with her…" He swallowed harshly. "I would be alright with spending the rest of my life with her, but I wouldn't be happy. But… I guess I didn't want to hurt her when I broke it off with her… It was easier to just use the war as an excuse… and since I don't think I'll survive I don't see a problem with not telling her that things just weren't going to work out…"_

_Hermione was gawking at him and he stood up and started pacing._

_"It's not her fault. I-I just… I don't think I like _girls_ that way at all…"_

_Hermione was suddenly on her feet, pulling him into a hug. "I understand. You don't have to say anything else."_

_Harry awkwardly returned the hug, and soon they were sitting back at the table with a pot of tea._

_"What makes you think you like guys?"_

_Harry felt his face flame, despite the cold. "Well. I just _notice_ them. And I don't notice girls in the same way… I fancied Remus quite a bit back in third year."_

_Hermione giggled. "You and all the girls! He was quite alluring."_

_"Yeah. I fancied Oliver for a long time, and I still kind of fancy Charlie a bit."_

_"Understandable." Hermione suddenly frowned. "When we finish this, you realize that you're going to have to come clean to Ginny, right?"_

_"If we get through this, I will."_

_"Good. _When_ we get through this I'm going to hold you to that."_

_Hermione suddenly looked at him with awe. "Oh! This makes so much more sense now!"_

_"What does?"_

_"It explains why you were so taken with the mysterious Half-Blood Prince last year!"_

_Harry groaned. He had been hoping she _wouldn't_ see that connection._

Harry grimaced, nodding absent-mindedly when Madam Malkin asked him if he was happy with the hems on his new robes. Hermione shot him a look and spoke quietly. "It won't be as bad as you're thinking it will."

"Really? Because here I was thinking that I was about to go have a conversation with my ex-girlfriend to tell her that I can't get back with her because I lied to her about the real reason why I broke up with her and I was never as into her as I let on in the first place." Harry rolled his eyes. "That sounds pretty bad to me."

Madam Malkin chuckled. "Ah. To be young again."

Harry didn't talk again as they finished up and paid for their new robes. He was secretly relieved that the matronly woman hadn't gone nuts upon seeing him and Hermione in her shop—regardless of the fact that he was shelling over money for the first time that day.

Hermione smirked knowingly at him the whole time she was dragging him to the Leaky Cauldron, only allowing him one brief detour to stop by the post-office to pick up his mail and have it rerouted to Hogwarts.

Ginny screamed and charged across the bar when she saw them, smashing into them as she pulled them into a vicious hug. Harry rubbed his head when it was smashed into Hermione's, but smiled at her as he took a step back. The crowd of interested gawkers was growing around them, and Hermione quickly dragged them up to the bar where Tom tossed her a key. Soon, they were out of the bustle, locked in a room with several privacy charms firmly in place.

"How have you been, Harry?" Ginny asked earnestly. She was dressed up slightly, wearing a soft blue blouse and swirly patterned skirt that swished when she walked. Her hair was pulled back with a clip and the gold-colored heels she was wearing brought her nearly even to Harry in height. Harry swallowed thickly as he sat down opposite her.

"I've been doing alright." Harry shrugged. "Just finally getting a chance to breathe after _everything_."

Ginny nodded. "It has been a complete mess. We finally got the Burrow repaired and livable again."

"Yeah. I'm sorry I wasn't there to help—it's just with everything…"

Ginny held up a hand to cut him off. "Don't worry about it. We have everything under control, and we know you had your own problems to worry about. Just wait until you see it. It's still home, but it came out different than we thought it would."

"I'm going to be stopping by tonight! You can give me the tour…"

Hermione cleared her throat, shooting Harry a look. Harry swallowed hard. "Actually Ginny… I have something I have to tell you."

Ginny straightened up, leaning forward slightly. "Yes, Harry?"

"Well… you see…" He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He took a deep breath and decided to just go for it. "I'm gay." Okay. That was a little more forward than he had meant, but it worked.

Ginny's eyes widened, and she leaned back with a huff. "Oh. I see."

Harry looked down at his hands. "I'm sorry… I lied to you… I was just… well…"

"Harry!" Ginny reached across the table and covered his hands with her own. "I'm not mad at you. Sure, I wish you would have been honest with me so I wouldn't have been just sitting around waiting… but I understand. Thank you for being honest with me now."

Harry looked up and smiled weakly, letting a deep breath woosh out in relief.

"Told you it wasn't going to be as bad as you thought it was." Hermione snipped smugly. Harry stuck his tongue out at her.

"You know what this means, don't you?" Ginny asked, and Harry was only slightly afraid of the smirk emerging on her face.

"What?"

"That it is now my personal duty to turn you into a respectable gay man!" She leapt up, slowly circling around Harry.

"Completely new wardrobe… have to do something with the hair… and I'm sorry, but those glasses have _absolutely_ got to go…."

Harry patted his hair uncertainly. "What's wrong with my hair? And under no circumstances are you going to dress me up like some sort of flaming fairy that prances around with glitter and sequins!"

"No! Of course not!" Ginny wrinkled her nose. "However, we are so getting you some nice clothes—and contact lenses! And your hair was fine—when you were a _boy_… but now you're a man and I—Ginny Weasley—do hereby accept the challenge to change your image from _boy_ to devilishly stylish man that bats for the other team."

"Ginny!"

"What!? Consider it a punishment for being dishonest with me."

Harry sighed, but bowed his head in defeat. Beside him, Hermione giggled.

"One more thing." Ginny's tone was suddenly serious, and Harry frowned as he looked back up at her. "Don't take too long to come out of the closet—the sooner you do the better. It will come out eventually, so it will be to your advantage for people to find out from you rather than from the rumor mill."

Harry nodded numbly. "I hadn't thought about that."

Ginny smiled, pulling on his arm. "Come on! I've got to turn you into a walking, talking man magnet by tonight!"

Hermione snorted, pulling on Harry's other arm until he was standing. "Have fun, you too. I've still got a few more things to pick up for school. Don't get so caught up in this makeover that you forget the school supplies!"

"We won't." Ginny assured, returning Hermione's hug.

"You're just gonna leave me to my fate!?" Harry asked desperately as he returned the half-hearted hug.

"Yes. I'm not really into clothes shopping—and besides! I want to be surprised on September 1. Have fun, and good luck."

"Thanks. We'll need it for this hopeless case." Ginny teased, pulling on Harry's arm as they descended the stairs. They shouted their final goodbyes as Hermione disappeared into the floo, and Ginny turned her wicked grin back to Harry.

"Are you ready?"

"No." Harry said flatly. "But as I don't see myself getting out of this, let's go."

"Do you have muggle money?"

"No."

"That's fine. You can pay me back later." Ginny smiled, dragging him out of the Leaky Cauldron and into Muggle London.


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Harry fidgeted nervously as he approached Platform 9 ¾. The station was bustling with people, and he kept seeing familiar faces—but so far no one had recognized him.

He had Ginny to thank for that—and according to her and all the Weasleys he looked _good_. But he wasn't so sure—despite the fact that Bill, Charlie and George had been unable to hold in their wolf-whistles. Sighing, he ran his hand through his hair—which was newly lengthened and tied loosely behind his neck. His bangs would take some getting used to as they hung low enough that they almost got in the way, but weren't long enough to tuck behind his ear. The contact lenses were still awkward, and he had to constantly remind himself that he didn't have _something_ in his eye—and he kept absentmindedly trying to push his non-existent glasses back up the bridge of his nose.

Ginny had waged war on his wardrobe—burning _all_ of his clothes except the ones on his back before they left Grimmauld Place. At the first opportunity, she made him shed the ones he was wearing as well and had vanished them to who-knows-where. Instead of the baggy, faded jeans he now had sleek, dark-washed jeans that were too tight for his comfort—though according to Ginny they hugged in all the right places and made his ass look like sex. She had thrown in a pair of black, skin-tight jeans that were a must-have for any 'girl.' For shirts, she had piled him with an assortment of button downs and t-shirts that were all sorts of colors—had even made him buy one in a deep, royal purple when he had absolutely, point-blank refused the pink.

Much to his chagrin, she had shown up that morning at Grimmauld Place to pick out his clothes for his first day back. She had told him exactly what to wear and he was under threat of severe pain should he disobey. So, he was obediently wearing the purple button down with his too-tight black jeans and studded knee-high boots that had a little too much heel to them for his liking. She had even smeared a touch of black eyeliner under his eyes—apparently for 'dramatic effect.'

Granted, he was quite taken with his new wardrobe—and it hadn't actually set him back that much. Ginny had bestowed much of it on him as a belated birthday gift. However, he felt like an absolute tool now that he was meandering around in public—if the looks he was receiving were anything to go by.

Bracing himself, Harry slipped through the barrier that separated the muggle station from platform 9 ¾ , immediately moving out of the way as another large crowd started streaming through. He clutched his messenger bag tighter to his shoulder as he scanned around for familiar faces.

"Harry!"

Harry started towards Ginny's voice, slipping easily through the crowd of people that still didn't recognize him.

"Oh my!" Hermione exclaimed—overdramatically in Harry's opinion. "You look fantastic!"

Harry blushed, nudging his toe against the ground. Ron was staring at him. "What the bloody hell happened to you!?"

"Ronald Weasley!" Molly swept her son aside. "You do look fantastic dear—Ginny did a marvelous job. You'll have all the girls swooning."

Harry smiled warmly as he received a patented Molly hug. In his opinion, Molly Weasley gave the best hugs on earth. "Thank you."

"Well, what are you waiting for? Get on the train you lot!" Molly ushered. "It'll leave soon."

Harry smiled, sweeping Ron into a hug while he was still sputtering. "Your sister." Harry explained, and it seemed to be enough.

"Should have let her get ahold of you years ago, mate. Though, can't say I like the purple too much… a little fruity—but if you like it." He finished with the shrug, and Harry couldn't help the sinking feeling he felt. Ginny just rolled her eyes and squeezed his arm as she pulled him away so Hermione could say her goodbyes.

"Don't listen to him—he talks like that but it's just because he doesn't think. He really has no problem with it."

Harry nodded. "I hope so. We've been through so much, I'd hate for something like this to drive us apart."

"Let's go." Hermione suddenly appeared beside them, throwing an arm around both of their shoulders. "I'm excited. I have to admit I never thought I'd be going back."

"I know what you mean." Harry agreed.

They ended up joining Luna and Neville in a compartment, securely warding the door against unwanted visitors.

"Bloody hell." Neville muttered. "They're like vultures."

"It's because you're a hero." Luna pointed out. "You have lipstick on your cheek."

Neville flushed, wiping at the wrong cheek with his sleeve. "Am I the only one who thinks it's creepy that they just throw themselves at you?"

"No." Harry agreed. "It is very creepy."

Hermione giggled. "When we were in Diagon Alley, Harry had four Witches and one Wizard that just came up to him and kissed him—full on the lips."

Ginny snorted. "I didn't hear about this!"

Harry groaned. "It was mortifying! One of the witches was old enough to be my mum!"

Neville chuckled. "You haven't been out in public very much, have you?"

"No. Why?"

"Just wait until the little old ladies start pinching your bum."

Harry felt his jaw drop. "They do that!?"

"Yep."

Harry sighed. "It shouldn't be so bad at Hogwarts, though. Right? I mean, these are people we've gone to school with—and it's not like we have to worry about the teachers."

"I don't know." Ginny countered lazily. "I wouldn't put it past Madame Hooch to sneak in a pinch—and there's bound to be new teachers this year. So who knows?"

Harry and Neville exchanged a nervous look that set Ginny, Hermione and Luna into a fit of giggles.

"You should see your faces!" Hermione gasped. "Merlin! You two! You shouldn't be scared of a little attention."

"It's not a little I'm scared of…" Neville muttered.

"Yeah. If there's enough of them and they get crazy or desperate enough it's only a matter of time before I find that all my knickers have been filched or I'm starving because all the food has been laced with love potions." Harry shuddered, thinking about Romilda Vane and the potion she had tried to slip him. "And don't say it won't happen because it has happened before."

Hermione just frowned.

"You don't think we'd let that happen, do you?" Ginny asked. "We'll look out for you guys."

Luna nodded in agreement. "Do you know that Draco Malfoy is coming back for a year too?"

Harry blinked at the abrupt change of subject, but nodded. "Yes. I was there at his trial."

Luna smiled slightly. "I think we should become friends with him."

"Er… why?" Neville asked.

"Well…" Hermione began. "It's not like he's going to have many friends now… but Luna… don't you think he'd just get angry if he thought we were trying to make friends with him out of pity?"

Luna nodded. "I don't want to make friends with him out of pity. Do you know, when I was captured at Malfoy manor he used to sneak me and Mr. Ollivander food and healing potions. Until his aunt caught him and tortured him something awful. He didn't do it as much after that, and he was always extra careful not to get caught."

Harry blinked at her for a second before leaping to his feet. "Why didn't you testify at his trial!? He could have gotten off with almost nothing if they knew he was helping Voldemort's prisoners right under Lestrange's nose!"

"I couldn't make it to the trial—father was really sick from his time in Azkaban. But I wrote the Wizangamot a letter explaining it when I found out. I expect he'll get a reduced sentence shortly."

It was said with such firmness that Harry didn't continue arguing. He thought about what she was suggesting. "I'm willing to give it a shot with Malfoy—if you think he's worth a shot then I'll stand by that. I respect your opinion."

"I'll give it a go too." Ginny said. Hermione was a little more sullen as she nodded, and Neville just shrugged.

"Excellent. I'll go find him!" Luna stood up, and before anyone could say anything she was gone.

"That was weird." Neville finally broke the silence. "Am I the only one hoping she won't be able to convince him to join us just yet?"

"No." Came the unanimous reply.

"Good. Just so we're all on the same page."

Harry grinned weakly. "Well. This might turn out to be an interesting year at least."

There was a silent agreement.

Eventually, Luna returned alone. "He would rather be alone." She said simply before sitting down and immersing herself in The Quibbler.

Neville looked relieved, and slumped in his seat. "So. What do you think Hogwarts is going to be like now? There was a lot of work on the castle over the summer—Gran said they were doing some updating while they were fixing it."

"I don't imagine it'll be hugely different." Hermione said. "They won't be able to stray far from the original plans—the magical foundations are hard to alter."

At the blank stares she received, she just rolled her eyes. "Seriously. You absolutely _must_ read Hogwarts, A History."

Harry grinned. "Ah. Why would we need to do that when you know it by heart?"

She just glared at him.

Neville smiled, amused. "Yeah. It's going to be stricter though—not like it was with Dumbledore—what with Snape being Headmaster again."

"What!?" Harry sat up, and even Luna turned to look at him.

"You didn't know!?" Ginny snorted. "It's only been in The Prophet about a dozen times in the last month."

Harry blinked at her. "I haven't really had the time to be keeping up with the news. Most of the time I was right in the middle of it anyways."

"Touché." Ginny shrugged. "Well, everyone thought it was going to be McGonagall—but she announced that she plans to retire in a year or two—she plans to stay just long enough to help get the school completely back on track. She said it would make no sense to become headmistress for that short of time. And since Snape was technically still the Headmaster and he was one of the good guys in the end… well… McGonagall is still the deputy headmistress."

Harry slumped back in his seat. "Well I'm glad I'm finding this out now rather than at the feast." He frowned. And here he thought that Snape had just disappeared off the face of the planet—his stomach suddenly twisted with nerves as he realized he was going to actually see the man for the first time since the shrieking shack in just a few short hours.

He wasn't sure how to regard Snape—now that he _knew_ what the man had done, not just for the war against Voldemort, but for Harry. There was respect, awe and admiration—that was a given after what he had learned from the man's memories. But there was guilt there too—everyone had thought the man was a villain, a traitor—the scum of the earth. Harry had believed such things with all of his heart, and he had truly hated the man.

Until he had looked into his eyes in the Shrieking Shack. For unknowable reasons, Harry had been devastated as he had watched the man dying. Even when he should have felt a fierce sense of self-righteousness when the man that had betrayed Dumbledore was betrayed by his own master—he hadn't. He couldn't feel anything but anguish when the man had been dying before his own eyes.

Harry supposed it had something to do with the inevitable conclusion that there had really been no winners in the war. There had been victory, yes. But everyone had lost in the end.

And when the news had reached him that Severus Snape had been found alive—against all odds—Harry had cried like he hadn't in years. They had been tears of joy, relief, and guilt. He had bought Snape's act just like everyone else, and somehow the cost of the war hadn't seemed as great knowing that Snape hadn't died with the world not knowing his sacrifice.

Harry started out of his reverie, aware that his eyes were dangerously wet. He blinked furiously to try and ease away the tears as the lady with the lunch trolley came to their compartment. He ordered nothing, content to wait until the feast to eat.

"Wonder who the new teachers will be." Harry suddenly asked. "How many new teachers do you think there will be?"

"Well, I know that the Muggle Studies and Defense Against the Dark Arts were definitely open. I'm not sure, but I think Hagrid was going to take a holiday with Madame Maxine and Grawp. So possibly Care of Magical Creatures. I think Slughorn retired again, Filch quit when Mrs. Norris died, and I heard that Madame Pomfrey is training a replacement." Hermione listed off. "So that means that at the very least we'll have three new professors—with possibly six new members of staff total."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "I bet that was a bitch and a half—do you think the Defense post is still cursed?"

"Who knows?" Ginny shrugged. "I wouldn't want to be the poor fool who found out though."

"The curse should be broken…" Harry mused. "After all, it was Voldemort who put the curse on it in the first place when Dumbledore turned him down for the job."

This was met with silence from Neville, Ginny and Luna.

"Bloody hell!" Neville gulped. "I never knew that!"

"It wasn't common knowledge." Hermione sighed. "If it was, we would have never had a professor for that class."

Harry nodded. "People were scared enough just thinking it was a regular curse—but to know that it was Voldemort's curse…" He trailed off. "I bet it is broken. Wouldn't it be neat if we got Remus again? Granted I don't think Snape would _ever_ hire Remus, but still…."

"It would be cool to have Lupin teach again." Neville sighed wistfully.

"I don't think that's going to happen." Ginny frowned. "He has a son to take care of."

Harry nodded. He had been to see Remus a couple weeks back—the werewolf had looked horrible. Granted, he was still recovering from his injuries and dealing with the loss of his wife. He was living with Andromeda and they both looked worn to the bone. Teddy had been a bouncing ball of joy, though. He had been changing his hair from magenta to neon green and had promptly turned it into a black mess when Harry had picked him up. Overall, they had been holding up as well as could be expected. But Harry knew it had to be hard since Tonk's death. Being a father would be scary enough—being a single father, as well as a werewolf—well Harry could imagine how scared Remus was. At least he still had Andromeda to help.

Harry smiled fondly, stretching some of the kinks out of his back from the long train ride. It was getting dark. "We'll be there soon."

The others nodded, leaning around him to peak out the window to see if they could glimpse the castle. Soon, it came into view.

"I was surprised that our letters said our school uniforms aren't required for the opening feast or weekends." Hermione commented as they slowly followed the mass of students off the train. Harry caught a glimpse of Draco, looking thin and pale slipping through the crowd with his head down and silently swore that he would at the very least be civil to the blonde boy.

"It's probably an attempt to keep it casual and comfortable." Ginny suggested. "After all, this is the first term after the end of the war—the more welcoming the castle seems the safer people will feel."

"True." Neville muttered. "But I bet Snape also wants to earn some points with the students."

Harry snorted at that. "Snape? He won't give a rat's ass about whether the students _like_ him."

"Maybe not before—but it's going to be different what with people knowing he's a hero now." Neville added with a shrug.

Harry remained silent, but not for long as he heard a familiar voice booming over the crowd.

"Firs' years! Over here! Firs' years!"

"Hagrid!" Harry sprinted over to the man, nearly laughing at the confusion that dissolved into recognition and absolute glee upon seeing Harry.

"'Arry!"

Harry hugged the half-giant around the middle, getting squeezed half to death in return. He quickly tried to fix his rumpled clothes as Ginny shot him a glare.

"Look a' you!" Hagrid beamed. "Good to see yeh, 'Arry! You lot go catch yerselves a carriage and I'll see yeh at the feast."

Harry smiled, letting Ginny pull him aside and cast a quick charm that eased all the wrinkles out of his clothes. "First, I can't let you dress yourself. What next? Am I going to have to make you a bib?"

"Hey!" Harry stuck his tongue out at her. "Clothes are meant to be worn and lived in—you should have thought of that when you dressed me, your pickiness."

Ginny rolled her eyes, dragging Harry over to where Hermione was waiting with Luna and Neville.

The carriage ride to the castle was short and silent, and before long they were walking up the steps to the castle.

Harry wasn't the only one to draw in a sharp breath at the change—there was a new tower spiraling up over the Great Hall—and he could just make out several new buildings on the edge of the light. The Entrance Hall was gone, instead the Great Hall had just been expanded out. Harry glanced towards where the stairs should be only to see a blank wall. There had definitely been changes.

Harry glanced up at the head table, freezing upon seeing the familiar face of Remus Lupin. A grin split his face and he rushed up to give the man a hug.

"Harry?" Remus smiled at him, holding him at arms-length before sweeping him into an embrace. "I almost didn't recognize you."

Harry smiled, hugging back tightly. "Ginny's handiwork. How are you doing? You're here!"

"I know. I was shocked as any when Severus approached me to teach Defense again." Remus grinned, finally releasing Harry and sitting back down. "But he offered Andromeda the Healer position as well. She's going to be working with Poppy this year, and take over fully next year."

"That's great! I'm glad you're here, Remus. Or Professor Lupin."

"You can still call me Remus."

"Is Teddy here with you?"

"Yes. He went to bed an hour ago. Andromeda decided to stay with him. She's not entirely comfortable having a house elf look after him just yet."

Hagrid had just come sidling in the side door. "I'll talk to you later." Harry slipped back to Gryffindor table, squeezing into the seat between Ginny and Hermione just as Professor McGonagall came in with a rather small number of first years. Luna had joined them at Gryffindor table and was masterfully ignoring the odd looks shot at her by the rest of the Gryffindors.

Harry ignored the sorting except to clap occasionally. He glanced up the length of the head table, noting three new faces. There was a rather frumpy-looking witch sitting between Madame Pomfrey and Professor Sprout. She had graying hair that was tied back in a loose braid, but her wrinkled face looked kind. Then, on the far side, next to Hagrid there were two wizards—one was pale and obscenely skinny. He seemed kind of twitchy, and his bald head was shiny. The other was a robust, well-filled out man with a small mustache and dark brown hair. His eyes were glued to Hagrid as he seemingly listened intently to whatever Hagrid was mumbling. Harry frowned. "Snape's not here."

"He'll come in after the sorting." Neville explained quietly. "At least he did last year. Made an impressionable entrance."

"I'm really surprised that Remus—er… Professor Lupin is here." Hermione mumbled.

"Me too." Harry looked around the Great Hall. It was nowhere near as crowded as he remembered—but then it would take some time to recover from the war. In particular, there were only a handful from his own year. From Slytherin there was just Malfoy, Zabini and Greengrass. Malfoy was sitting apart from his year mates and the rest of his house. There just weren't very many Slytherins at all, actually.

From Hufflepuff there was Justin Finch-Fletchley and Hannah Abbott. He didn't spot any of his year mates from Ravenclaw, and aside from him, Hermione and Neville there was only Dean and Lavender. Looking down Gryffindor table, Harry frowned at how many missing faces there were.

"There aren't as many students here as I thought there'd be." Harry muttered.

"There are still a lot of people in hiding." Ginny explained as the last student was sorted. "And on top of that there are a lot of people who are still unwilling to trust Snape, or they've just lost so many already that they don't want to be parted from their children."

"That makes sense."

"It helped that you and Hermione decided to come back." Luna leaned over as the side doors opened again and Snape swept in. "People figure that if you two are willing, then it must be safe."

Harry nodded, watching the Headmaster carefully. He swept up to the head table, looking only straight ahead. He was exactly as Harry remembered him.

Except he wasn't. When he reached his seat, he didn't sit and started speaking in that low voice that cut through the room as effectively as if he were shouting.

"There are five new additions to the staff this year. First, I would like to welcome back Remus Lupin as the Master of Defense."

There was a great explosion of cheering and applause, and Snape held a hand for silence. "Next, there is Leanne Tawney for the Post of Ancient Runes." The old woman nodded, and there was a scattering of applause.

"Michael Crowan has kindly agreed to teach Muggle Studies." The large man with the mustache stood and waved to the brief applause he received.

"And for the post of Potions Master, Gustave Devereux." The skinny, stick of a man stood up.

Harry heard Hermione suck in her breath at that. "You heard of him?"

"He's quite famous in France." Hermione whispered back. This time the scattering of applause was coupled with interested whispers that quieted down at a glare from the Headmaster.

"Though she is not with us this evening—Andromeda Tonks has taken up residency as a healer, to take the post when Madame Pomfrey retires at the end of this year. Last, but certainly not least—Professor Sinistra will be taking over as the Head of Slytherin. That is all."

Snape sat down abruptly, and the food blossomed to life all over the Great Hall. There were a few seconds of stunned silence before general chatter broke out all around.

"That's exciting." Hermione muttered as she filled her plate.

"What is?" Harry still didn't drag his gaze away from Snape. The man was talking quietly with McGonagall between bites. Harry hastily glanced down when black eyes turned to regard him.

"The new potions master. He invented the skin restoration salve called Collyrium Abustis. It's the most effective against burns."

"Really now? That is exciting." Harry tried to hide his sarcasm. But he failed.

"It is. It's amazing that Snape got him at all—the man's a genius."

"Maybe so." Harry turned his attention back to the twitchy, tiny, twig man. "But he doesn't look like he'll survive a class with first years."

Neville laughed. "No. He doesn't."

Hermione just frowned at them, and Ginny rolled her eyes. "You guys should know that looks aren't everything. Just look at Harry."

Harry choked on a bite of potatoes. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"That means that before I got done with you, you were not a pretty sight. And you're still scrawny!"

Harry pointedly ignored her for the rest of dinner, even when she corrected 'scrawny' into 'slender.'

The rising noise-level seemed to be the queue for the end of the feast, because Snape stood and the hall immediately fell silent again.

"As you may have noticed, there have been some renovations to the castle. None of the dormitories have been moved, though the pathways to get there may have changed. Your prefects are aware of the changes. Some of the class locations have also been changed, but you may worry about that tomorrow when you receive your schedules. All students should remain aware of the fact that the Forbidden Forest is _Actually_ Forbidden. That will be all tonight."

Harry waited patiently for an opening in the immediate bustle that resulted from the dismissal. He saw Hermione slip through the crowd to talk to one of the Gryffindor prefects for a second. She came back, offering a wry grin. "We'd better get going. I don't expect Snape will be lenient if we're caught out after curfew—even if it is the first night."

However, before they could exit the Great Hall Professor McGonagall had approached, followed by Dean Thomas and Lavender Brown.

"Good evening, Professor." Harry smiled at her, receiving a small smile in return.

"Good evening Mr. Potter. Mr. Longbottom. Miss Granger. Miss Weasley, you may go ahead to the dormitory. The 'eighth year' students have different sleeping arrangements this year."

Ginny nodded. "Good night then. I'll see you guys in the morning."

"Bye."

McGonagall motioned for them to follow, and briskly led them out of the Great Hall. Harry caught a glimpse of Professor Sinistra talking to Malfoy, Zabini and Greengrass—Professor Sprout was talking to Justin and Hannah.

"As you know, the dormitories are set up to house seven different years. We thought it appropriate to continue this trend. However, it proved to be too difficult to add another wing to the dormitories—and unreasonable to do so for a single year. As a result, you will be sharing separate quarters from the rest of Gryffindor." McGonagall explained as she led them up the newly constructed staircase.

"You will still be welcome in the common room, of course. However, there are certain rules you should be made aware of. You are not 'regular' students—therefore excessive rule breaking will result in immediate expulsion. None of you are eligible to join the house quidditch team either—it wouldn't be fair to the younger years. You are here to complete the year that was denied from you—and I expect you to act like responsible adults. Am I clear?"

"Yes Professor." Came the unanimous reply.

"Good. I don't expect any problems from you lot then. However, since all of you are of age you will be privy to certain allowances that the other students aren't. Your curfew is 11:00 instead of 10:00, Hogsmeade is open to you for any weekend—though you need to inform either myself or the Headmaster if you are going down. Furthermore, if you need to leave the school at any time, you are allowed to do so—again, just inform either myself or the Headmaster."

Harry couldn't help but smile as McGonagall suddenly scowled and stopped, looking around.

"Blast those renovations. Ah. Here we are." She led them down a narrow hallway that emerged into the corridor that hosted the portrait of the fat lady. She led them deftly passed, pausing by another large portrait of a Gryffin.

"The password is 'Prince and the Pauper.'" The portrait immediately swung open and McGonagall ushered them inside. There was a small sitting room with a single couch and three squishy chairs around the fireplace. Two doors led off to the right.

"Boys, Girls." McGonagall pointed to each door in turn. "There are separate bathrooms in the rooms. Make yourselves comfortable. I'll be by periodically to check on you to make sure there aren't any problems. Have a nice night." Then she was gone.

"Well, I'm going to bed." Hermione covered a yawn with her hand. "Night all." She disappeared into the 'girls' room. Lavender followed after.

"Reckon that's a good idea." Harry muttered. "It's been a long day." He lead the way into the 'boys' room, pleased to see it was just as comfortable as their old dormitory. All their stuff was already there, and Harry quickly dug his shrunken trunk out of his messenger bag. It grew back to its proper size with a flick of his wand.

"I expected Ron to be here when I heard you were coming back." Dean commented as he pulled his pajamas out of his trunk.

"Nah. He went straight into the Auror training program." Harry replied. "What about Seamus?"

"Still in hiding I think. I haven't been able to reach him, but he sent me an owl not too long ago. I don't think he realizes the war's over."

Harry frowned, pulling his sleep pants on and sitting on the bed. Neville had already crawled into his own bed. "I wonder how many people are still in hiding like that—there were a lot of people I expected to be here that weren't."

Dean nodded. "They'll hear the news eventually and come out—we just have to give it time."

Harry nodded, slipping beneath the covers. "Good night."

"Night."

"G'night."

He pulled the curtains on his bed and laid back, falling asleep almost instantly.


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Harry woke abruptly, sitting bolt upright with his wand pointed strait out in front of him. He was panting heavily and drenched in sweat, and only half remembered what he had been dreaming about that had scared him so bad. Fighting against the trembling, he cast a quick 'tempus.' 3:42. Sighing, he got up silently and went to use the bathroom. On his return into the dorm, he noted that Neville's bed was empty too and silently padded into the sitting room.

Neville was sitting in one of the arm chairs by the dying fire, and Harry cleared his throat as he approached his roommate. Neville started a bit, but relaxed upon seeing him.

"Can't sleep?"

"No. You?"

"No." Harry dropped heavily down on the couch. "Nightmares?"

Neville nodded mutely.

"Me too." Harry sighed, turning his gaze to the faltering embers. "What classes are you taking?"

"Herbology, Charms, Care of Magical Creatures and Defense. You?"

"Charms, Transfiguration, Potions, Herbology, and Defense." Harry smiled. "We'll have three classes together at least."

Neville nodded. "You still want to be an Auror?"

"No." Harry frowned. "I figure I'm done chasing down dark wizards. What about you?"

"Gran reckons I should be an Auror—I got an invitation to join the training program. But I'm not sure that's what I want to do. My parents were Aurors—but—I figure I'm in the same boat as you. I lived through the war, I don't need to prove anything besides that. I think I'd like to work with plants, anyways. I'm good at it."

Harry nodded. "Yes you are."

"So what are you going to do?"

"I have no idea. Honestly, I never really believed I'd still be alive."

"I hear you."

They fell into companionable silence as the fire grew dimmer. Eventually, grey light started filtering through a previously unseen window.

"Guess I'm gonna go take a shower." Harry stood up, stretching until his back popped. Neville didn't respond, so he silently padded back into the room.

By the time he was done in the shower and dressed, Dean was up and Neville was dressed. Harry grabbed his bag, which had all the books for all his classes—once he got his schedule he'd know which one's he'd need. But he didn't want to have to run back up to the dormitory after breakfast. Especially since he was less certain of the way this time. He wordlessly left their new dorm and started on the way to the Great Hall, only taking two wrong turns that he corrected almost immediately. There were only a handful of people already at breakfast, and Harry was alone at Gryffindor table.

He caught Malfoy watching him from across the hall, but the other boy looked away when he caught his gaze. Harry sighed, pouring himself a cup of coffee and slowly started buttering some toast.

"Mr. Potter. Up early, I see."

Harry leapt up in shock at the voice so close behind him, spinning and training his wand on Snape's chest. After a second, he quickly shoved it back up his sleeve. "I'm sorry, Sir. You startled me."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "That is understandable—however do take care not to curse any of your classmates for such a trivial offense."

Harry grinned at him. "I'll try my best, sir, but I make no promises."

Snape raised an eyebrow at him before sweeping up to his seat at the head table. Harry sat back down slowly. Had he just shared a _joke_ with Snape? He had, hadn't he? Harry glanced back at the head table, catching Snape's eye. This time, he blushed before he looked away.

'What is wrong with me?' Harry cursed inwardly. He pointedly kept his gaze away from the head table as more students started to fill into the hall.

"Hey, Harry." Ginny plopped down on his right. She looked at him sharply. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Harry knew he replied too quickly and cut her off before she asked again. "It's _nothing_. Eat some toast."

This seemed to amuse her, because she pointedly took a piece of toast from Harry's plate. Harry just grinned and snatched a new piece for himself. "That one was cold, anyways."

Hermione and Lavender showed up next, sitting down across from them. Hermione instantly honed in on Harry's thoughtful look. "What's wrong?"

Harry ignored Ginny's laughter. "Nothing's _wrong_. I'm just thinking? Can't a guy eat toast and think in piece without his girlfriends pestering him for a non-existent problem?"

"Sure. Whatever you say." Ginny snorted. "Whenever you're ready to tell us, we'll listen."

"There's nothing to tell!" Harry threw his toast down dramatically. "If there was, I'd tell you."

"Fine. Sheesh. You don't have to get bitchy with me." Ginny poked him in the side as Harry grumbled.

"Oh. I see. First I'm scrawny, now I'm bitchy." Harry stuck his tongue out at her. "You might have wasted your considerable talent on me, my dear."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "I don't make bad investments—although I am going to have to fix you up before class." Her eyes roved over Harry. "But not bad for your first attempt—I'll have you trained up soon." She ignored Harry's indignant squawk and leaned over to start talking to Lavender.

"She's going to be the death of me." Harry pointedly told Hermione. "This is your fault. You let the cat out of the bag."

Hermione just rolled her eyes. "Don't be such a drama queen."

Harry was saved from having to come up with a reply by Neville's arrival.

"I got lost." Neville panted. "McGonagall hand out our schedules yet?"

Harry looked around and spotted his head of house at the opposite end of the table. "She just started—hasn't gotten to our end yet."

Neville nodded, grabbing a few pieces of sausage and some eggs. There was a rush overhead as owls suddenly started rushing into the hall.

Harry rolled his eyes when no less than thirteen landed around him, each clamoring to deliver their letters.

"Alright. Give them here." Harry quickly snatched up his letters, sharing a glance with Neville as he received his own gaggle of letters. Harry quickly shifted through the letters.

"Trash… Trash… Trash… Letter from Ron… Trash… Letter from Kingsley…" Harry pulled the two important letters aside and pulled out his wand to burn the others.

"Aren't you going to read them?" Lavender asked.

"No." Harry said. He started methodically going through the 'burn' pile. "These three are marriage proposals from women I have never met… this one is a death threat—some nutter that's convinced I couldn't have possibly defeated Voldemort with a disarming spell… thinks I must be a new dark lord… this package has chocolates that have been laced with a love potion… and these are from publishers looking for a book contract."

Neville picked up the three that Harry said contained marriage proposals. "These three are asking me as well."

Harry shrugged, but before he could incinerate the letters Ginny had snatched them up. "Let's have a look, shall we?"

_"Dear Harry Potter._

_I am so grateful to you for defeating He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. I'll gladly give you everything I have in thanks—my money, my body and my hand. Marry me!_

_Yours Forever and Always,_

_Kayla McIntosh"_

Ginny snorted. "That's atrocious."

"You have no idea. You should read the one from Gladys Glidrell. She's downright nasty." Neville added.

Ginny found the right letter and opened it, her eyebrows flying up as she read the downright crude message. "These people are nuts."

"I agree." Harry snatched the letters back, turning them to ash with a flick of his wand. "At first I tried to politely decline—but they just get worse." He motioned towards the package. "And start sending tainted food." He incinerated the package and opened the two good letters. Kingsley wanted him to send a letter of recommendation to the Wizangamot to reduce Malfoy's sentence—Ron regaled him with tales of what he was missing in Auror training.

"Mr. Potter. Please refrain from such displays in the Great Hall." McGonagall looked at the smoldering pile of ashes of the junk mail, which Harry vanished quickly with a sheepish smile. "I need to talk to you about your schedule. You won't be able to take the NEWT Potions course—Professor Devereux won't take students with anything except an 'O' on their OWLs. I'm sorry."

Harry wasn't as disappointed as he thought he'd be. "That's fine. Should I take another class to make up for that?"

"That is up to you. Perhaps you would like to take Care of Magical Creatures? I'm sure Hagrid would be willing to help you catch up from what you missed in your sixth year. Or perhaps you might like to take Ancient Runes or Arithmancy. At entry level, of course, but you could always continue your studies later and take the NEWTs for them through the ministry."

Harry raised an eyebrow, turning to look at Hermione. "Ancient Runes?"

"Oh! You'll love it Harry! I'd be glad to tutor you!"

"Right." Harry turned back to Professor McGonagall. "Ancient Runes and Care of Magical Creatures."

McGonagall looked down at his schedule, referring back to her master-schedule quickly.

"Very well. I'm sure Miss Granger has the book you need for Ancient Runes. I'll let Professor Tawney know to expect you and Hagrid as well."

"Thank you." Harry studied his schedule. He had Transfiguration first thing, followed by Charms. After lunch was a free period and then Care of Magical Creatures. Not too bad for a Wednesday.

Neville glanced over his shoulder. "We have Charms and Care of Magical Creatures together today."

Harry smiled. "And we have Herbology and Defense tomorrow."

Hermione snatched his schedule out of his hand. "You are planning on actually studying this year, aren't you?"

"Of course." Harry smiled. "No dark wizards to distract me anymore, remember?"

"And no quidditch." Hermione pointed out smartly, handing him back his schedule. "Good. Because if you don't put out the effort, I'm _not_ going to help you."

"Alright. I'll study, _and_ do my homework in a timely manner. Happy?"

"That remains to be seen." She was smiling none-the-less.

Harry quickly finished up his toast, glancing at the schedule again. There were extra notes he hadn't noticed at first—dictating new classroom locations. There was a map on the back of the schedule.

"Transfiguration is moved." Harry pointed out, blinking at the name of the building. "To Dumbledore Hall."

"Must be one of the new buildings." Neville muttered. "Charms is there also."

"There's a new potions building as well." Hermione muttered. "And a new Defense Against the Dark Arts wing—Potter Wing!"

"What!?" Harry yelped, staring at his own schedule. "You can't be serious!"

Ginny giggled, slapping Harry's back. "Everything has been renamed—look! Longbottom Wing—that's the hall with the Room of Requirement!"

Neville sputtered, turning red. "What the bloody hell…?"

"It kind of makes sense." Hermione shrugged, grinning widely. "This was the stage for the final battle. The potions building is Snape Hall—there's Weasley Wing—that's the old defense wing… according to the map it's now set up for spell practice and there's an extra dueling room. Oh…" Hermione suddenly went very red, and Harry studied his map to see what had caught her attention.

"Granger _Library_!" Ginny snorted. "They certainly got that one right."

"Gran told me there were going to be memorials set up—but this is a little over the top." Neville muttered, still slightly pink. "There's McGonagall Tower—that makes sense… Can't believe they renamed Gryffindor Tower though… Trelawney Tower!"

Harry couldn't take it anymore. He started laughing, clutching his sides and letting his head clunk on the table.

"There's a Slughorn room in the Potions building—it's the NEWT lab… Merlin! Ginny! There's a Fred Weasley Rec Room on the third floor!"

"Wow…" Harry finally stopped laughing, though he was still smiling. "Okay. I take it back. It isn't _that_ ridiculous."

They were silent for a while as they studied the maps. Around them, there were interested and incredulous looks being sent their way.

"Who do you reckon is responsible for this?" Ginny asked quietly.

"The Board of Governors." Neville explained. "Any changes like this would have to be done by them. They went a little overboard."

Hermione had finally shaken herself out of her stupor and stood up. "We ought to head to class."

Harry followed her, grabbing his bag and taking another bite of his toast as they headed towards the door. Ginny followed slowly, and they met up with Luna at the door.

They walked to Transfiguration slowly. The two new buildings turned out to be each the size of the Great Hall—made of the same dark stone blocks as the castle. There was a white marble statue of Albus Dumbledore outside of Dumbledore Hall, and the marble eyes seemed to twinkle as they passed.

Harry's first two classes passed quickly, though he already had enough homework to last him a week. Sighing, he headed off to grab a quick lunch before slipping up to the Library to start on his Transfiguration homework.

The Library was mostly empty, and Harry was quick to snag a table in the back for himself as he pulled out his Transfiguration book. Two feet on the principles of human transfiguration, to be turned in on Monday. Harry snorted. And he had a foot and a half due in Charms too. It was going to be a hectic semester.

He deftly moved along the shelves, picking out books that he thought might help and dragging them back to the table.

He had barely gotten started when a voice shook his concentration.

"Who would have ever thought—Harry Potter, studying?"

It took every ounce of willpower Harry possessed to not jump and squeal like a girl as the smooth voice startled him. He glanced up to see Zabini looking down at him with an arched eyebrow.

"It has been known to happen on occasion." Harry shrugged. "And besides, I'm here to study."

"Really." Zabini seemed to take his response as an invitation to sit down. "And here I thought you were here to hide—the entire Wizarding World is trying to dig their claws into you, after all."

Harry snorted. "What's your point?"

"No point. Just commenting on your subtlety—or lack thereof."

Harry rolled his eyes, turning his attention back to his essay. Zabini made no move to leave.

"There's nothing wrong with it of course. I can't say that I blame you." Zabini continued coolly. Harry glanced up at him with a raised eyebrow. The darker boy was leaned back casually in his chair, one arm slung over the back and the other stretched out across the table. "Everyone wants something."

"And what is it you want, Zabini?" Harry asked, pointedly looking back down at his homework. This was making him more than a little uncomfortable.

"Call me Blaise."

"Is that all you want? For me to use your name?" Harry said cheekily, glancing up in time to see a flash of annoyance at his purposeful denseness.

"I simply wished to make conversation." Blaise said simply. "However, if you are adverse to my company…"

Harry didn't say anything as Zabini stood slowly to leave. He knew the taller boy was giving him an opportunity to stop him, but Harry had no desire to do so. He _knew_ there was more to Zabini's approach than just making friendly chat. Something about his manner made Harry's skin crawl.

"I guess I'll see you around, Harry."

Harry tried not to bristle when Zabini used his given name. It wasn't like he had any right to tell him not to—but it was like the boy was intentionally trying to get under his skin. So, Harry simply ignored him—smirking inwardly when he heard an irritated huff before the boy left.

'What was he playing at?' Harry frowned before forcing his attention back to his Transfiguration homework. Lunch was almost over, and he hoped to get it mostly done by the end of his free period.

Harry only had another six inches left of his essay by the time he headed to Care of Magical Creatures. He smiled at Neville and Luna—both were waiting dutifully on the front steps of the castle with the rest of the class. Justin and Hannah both approached to say hi, even as Hagrid's large form came lumbering up from the direction of the Forbidden Forest.

"'Ello class." Hagrid beamed around at them, his eyes lighting up when he glanced at Harry. "Got something special planned for you today!"

Harry smirked at the nervous shuffling that broke out—something 'special' usually meant vicious and dangerous. Except now, Harry found that he was actually looking forward to whatever creature Hagrid had to show them. It had been a while since his last near-death experience, after all.

Sure enough, Hagrid led them down to the Forbidden Forest. They didn't go very far in, however, before they reached an odd magical netting that was just barely visible as it caught the light that filtered through the trees. The area that was netted off wasn't very big, and Hagrid motioned for everyone to circle around.

Harry heard whispers coming from inside the netting, and took a step closer to listen as Hagrid started explaining.

"The new potions professor just got this in last week—it's nesting right now, so we don't want to bother it too much. It's really rare to find one with all three heads still. The Headmaster agreed that while it's here I can use it in the lessons with my NEWT classes."

Harry was only half listening to Hagrid as he focused on the magically sealed off area. There were definitely three voices—they were arguing.

_"The large human issss back…"_

_"Ssssooooo?"_

_"He'ssss after our eggssssssss."_

_"He hassssn't tried to ssssteal our eggsssss."_

_"But he will. They alwayssssss do."_

_"Sssshhhut up, you. Musssst you quessstion everything."_

_"I have to. Otherwisssse you two would never sssssee anything."_

_"I wanted to leave. But sssssomeone issss too enamored with ridiculousssss ideassss about raisssssing our eggssss in a nice foresssst."_

_"I like it here. I can imagine our young being happy and growing sssstrong."_

Harry smiled weakly as he finally caught sight of the three-headed snake curled protectively around a clutch of eggs. He pointed it out to Neville, whose breath hitched.

"That's a Runespoor!"

"Right yeh are Neville!" Hagrid beamed. "I'm not allowed ter give the 'eighth years' house points or I'd give you ten. Yes. It's a Runespoor! With all three heads still. Usually the three heads don't get along very well, and two gang up on the other."

Harry chuckled. "With the way this lot is arguing, they may soon be a head short."

Hagrid chuckled. "There's nothing to be done 'bout tha.' It's in their nature, see? Now this bunch just laid it's batch of eggs, most of them are going to be used for potions—but a couple of them are going to be hatched."

Harry turned his attention back to the snake, to see that it had reared up somewhat.

_"I told you that they want our eggssssssssssss!"_

_"Ssshut up! I heard that assssss well!"_

_"You! Boy! You ssspeak?"_

Harry raised an eyebrow, muttering quietly to the snake while Hagrid continued his lecture. "_Yessss. I do."_

The snake raised up even more, all three heads turning to look at him. _"Tell the humansssss that they will not be usssssing our eggsssss for any of their potionssssss."_

_"I will passsss on the messssage."_ Harry smiled wryly. He straightened up to see the class looking at him. "Er… They want me to pass on a message."

"Really!?" Hagrid moved forward excitedly.

"Yeah. They want it known that no one will be using _their_ eggs in any potions." Harry scratched the back of his head. "I guess they understand English just fine."

"Oh." Hagrid frowned. "I'll have to warn Professor Devereux that they're on guard then."

Harry nodded, turning back to watch the snake that was glaring darkly at the surrounding students.

_"Sssstupid humanssss…."_

_"Jussssst wait until I ssssssink my fangsssss in one of them…"_

_"They won't know what hit them."_

Harry smiled again. "Well, they aren't fighting anymore."

Harry was glad to go back to the little sitting room after Care of Magical Creatures. He was joined shortly by Hermione and Neville just as he was finishing his Transfiguration essay.

"Already starting on your homework?" Hermione asked, smiling as she looked over his shoulder. "Excellent! You'll have time to tackle Charms tonight."

"And Care of Magical Creatures." Harry muttered, finishing the last sentence and casting a quick drying spell on the ink. "That'll be a breeze. The magical properties of Runespoor."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "You're studying Runespoor? Does Hagrid have one?"

"No. I think it belongs to the new Potions Master."

"Ooh." Hermione was practically glowing. "Fresh Runespoor? I'm really excited about his class."

"Well, the Runespoor aren't. They have vowed that no human will use their eggs for any potions." Neville smirked at Harry.

"You can _still_ speak Parseltongue?" Hermione raised an eyebrow as she sat down. "I thought that would have disappeared when Voldemort died."

"Apparently not." Harry shrugged. "Kind of glad it didn't. I've always like talking to snakes."

"I still think it's creepy." Neville sighed. "I've got sooo much homework."

"Better get started on it now, then. Don't wait until the last minute." Hermione chided. "We've still got an hour until dinner."

"Yes, ma'am." Neville muttered, but obediently pulled out his Charms book. They worked in silence for the next hour before heading down to the Great Hall. They slid into their usual seats at the far end of Gryffindor table, waving at Luna when she came in with Ginny. However, unlike the previous evening she didn't come sit with them. Instead, she headed straight to the Slytherin table, sitting down next to Malfoy.

"She's really determined, isn't she?" Neville muttered as the entire Great Hall broke out into whispers. Malfoy was just staring blankly at Luna as she apparently started talking to him as if it were an everyday occurrence.

Ginny just giggled. "It's not really that weird, if you think about it. Luna was being held hostage and Malfoy was there playing the hero—he's her knight in shining armor."

Harry snorted. "I guess that makes sense. But it's still weird to see it in action."

Luna continued her animated discussion with Malfoy, who was no longer looking at her as if she had just grown an extra head. Instead, he just seemed resigned to his fate.

"I think it'll be good for Malfoy." Hermione added, dishing food onto her plate as it appeared on the table. "Luna may be a little—odd—but she's genuine. She's a good friend."

"That's true—but I'm not entirely sure if it's just friendship that Luna's interested in." Harry purposefully kept his voice low so none outside their little group could hear what was said.

"You think she fancies him?" Ginny raised an eyebrow and glanced across the hall at the blonde duo. "Well, they'd definitely make a cute couple—in a really bi-polar sort of way."

Hermione snorted. "Aren't we jumping to conclusions just a bit? She hasn't even managed to get him into a proper conversation. Besides—I think that's just Luna's method. Once she decides to do something, she goes for it. She decided she was going to become Malfoy's friend and that's what's going to happen. And no one—even Malfoy—is going to have a say in it."

Harry laughed. "That's true. He won't know what hit him."

There was silence for a while as dinner gave way to desserts. Harry had to stifle a yawn—it had been another long day. He wasn't hungry anymore, and glanced around the room. There were quite a few empty seats at the head table—Devereux was nowhere to be seen. Andromeda still wasn't there, and neither was Remus. Harry made a note to go to Defense early the next day just to chat with the werewolf. Snape was quietly talking with McGonagall and Flitwick—the latter waving his arms all over the place as he explained something.

As if sensing his gaze, Snape's eyes flicked to Harry. Harry gave him a half smile before saying goodbye to his friends and heading back up to the dormitory.

"Hey! Harry!"

Harry was only halfway up the stairs when the voice called him, and he turned to see Zabini jogging to catch up with him.

"What?" Harry asked warily, aware that quite a few people had turned to look at them.

"Well you don't have to sound so enthused." Was Zabini pouting at him?

Harry shrugged. "I'm tired, Zabini. What do you want?"

"Call me Blaise."

Harry had to hold back the exasperated sigh. He chose not to reply, instead crossing his arms and waiting for _Zabini_ to explain what exactly it was he wanted. There were a few moments of strained silence before Zabini started talking again.

"I thought you might fancy a walk. It's a nice night—not too cold. The stars are out."

"No thank you." Harry glanced pointedly up the stairs. "I'm just heading to bed, actually."

Zabini only looked a little put out before a grin broke out on his face. "Want company?"

Harry blinked at him. "I can find the way on my own, thanks. Good night, _Zabini_." He turned and left quickly. He had half expected Zabini to follow him—but was relieved to find himself alone as he walked up the corridors. It was a long path, and Harry made another note to do some exploring to see if he couldn't find some new shortcuts. He sighed with relief when he made it into the small sitting room. He really was tired—he hadn't slept much the night before.

But he didn't go to bed. Instead, he pulled out his Charms homework and by the time Hermione, Neville, Dean and Lavender came through the portrait hole he was nearly two-thirds of the way done with it. Hermione beamed at him.

"What did Zabini want?" Dean asked, flopping down on the couch. Lavender followed suit, looking completely enthralled waiting for the answer.

"I don't know, really. He said he wanted to go on a walk—but I don't think that's really what he wanted. He tried to talk to me in the Library at lunch too…" Harry trailed off, frowning as he set his essay aside.

"He wanted to go on a walk?" Hermione sat down on the arm of Harry's chair.

"Yeah. Then when I told him I was going to bed he offered to accompany me." Harry frowned as his year mates started laughing. "What?"

"Nothing." Hermione shook her head. "Zabini's obviously trying to reach out to you."

"Yeah. I know. But why? He's up to something—I just have a bad feeling about him." Harry mumbled, running a hand through his hair. "And here I thought I was going to have a normal year—but I've already got to watch my back."

"Whatever you do, don't drop the soap." Dean snorted.

"What?" Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Forget it, Harry. Dean's just trying to make a bad joke." Hermione stood and stretched. "Well, I've got a lot of homework to do. We all do, I think."

"What's the rush. Nothing's due for a week." Lavender shrugged.

"Yes, but it's going to be piled on you all week too. It's better to keep up with it as it comes."

Harry yawned. "I hear you, Hermione. I really do. But I'm not sure if I'm going to finish this tonight."

"So long as you don't put it off until the last minute." Hermione disappeared into her dorm, looking slightly irritated.

"You'd think she'd be a little more laid back now that the war is over." Dean muttered. Harry shot him a glare, but didn't say anything.

"She's right though. We're back to finish our education, aren't we? And now that the war is over we owe it to ourselves to make up for what we missed." Neville shrugged. "And Hermione only pesters us about it because she wants us to do well."

Harry sighed again, glancing at his Charms essay. "And just think of it this way—if we keep up on our homework throughout the week, we'll be able to spend the weekends however we want."

Lavender was silent for a few seconds before grabbing her school bag. "I guess I'd rather have a free weekend than a few free nights during the week. I plan to make full use of that free pass to Hogsmeade. Do you think Hermione would help me with the Transfiguration homework? I didn't quite understand the difference between superficial transformation and intrinsic transformation."

"A superficial transformation is temporary—like how we turn animals into things that are completely against their nature. They revert back to their original form on their own because you have to fight against the natural barriers." Harry explained. "The intrinsic transformation works _with_ the nature of the object—so it creates a more long lasting and sturdier transformation. It's like when we turn a piece of parchment into a solid wood desk—we aren't really changing the nature of the object."

"Oh. But how does that relate to human transfiguration?"

"If I wanted to transfigure myself into something else, I could do either. For example, if I wanted to turn myself into an armchair—I could. However, I wouldn't be able to keep it up for long because that would be a superficial transformation. However, if I were to become an animagus, I'd be able to keep it up for as long as I wanted because it is an intrinsic transformation."

"Oh." Lavender frowned. "I guess that makes sense. So—really it's just a big difference in changing living things versus changing non-living things?"

"That's a little over simplified, but yes." Harry smiled.

"Great! Thanks Harry! You know, you'd be a great teacher."

Harry blushed, putting his Charms homework back in his bag and stretching as he got to his feet. "Er… Thanks. Well, I guess I'll see you guys tomorrow."

"Good night!"


	4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Harry stifled a yawn as he walked into the Great Hall—he was the first one there. Yet another round of nightmares had caused him to wake far earlier than he liked. It wasn't a great start to the second day of classes.

Food bloomed to life around him as he sat down, and he quickly poured himself a cup of coffee. He added a dash of milk and downed it in nearly one go before pouring himself another cup. He dearly needed the boost.

Students started to filter into the hall slowly—Harry wasn't surprised when Draco was one of the first one's there. He nodded at the blonde when their eyes met and received a nod in return. Harry stifled another yawn and refilled his coffee.

"Early again, Mr. Potter?"

Harry didn't jump this time, just turned slowly in his seat to face the Headmaster. "Wouldn't pass up the opportunity to drown myself in caffeine so early in the morning—wouldn't want to sleep through my classes."

"Indeed you wouldn't." Black eyes regarded him slowly, and Harry couldn't help fidgeting a little. "However, do take care to eat as well—a jittery Potter is a disaster lying in wait."

Harry felt like he was back in potions class at the not-so-subtle insult, but couldn't bring himself to be really angry. "I don't know, Sir—it's not as risky as you'd think. There won't be any cauldrons for me to blow up this term, so I could probably get a little jittering in without too much catastrophe." He was almost certain he saw Snape's lips quirk up for a fraction of a second before going back to the carefully schooled expression.

"I'm sure you could manage to cause _something_ to explode—perhaps my temper as a result of your insolence?"

Harry couldn't help but grin. "My apologies, Headmaster. I shall immediately swap my cheekiness for meekness—if it so pleases you."

"Impertinent brat."

Harry was almost completely positive that the words held no real malice, but wasn't nearly as positive when he blurted out the next reply. "Sardonic ass."

Harry nearly cowered when the ex-potions master's glare returned full-force. He rattled his brain to try to find something that might ease the sudden tension, but the best he could come up with was, "Er… guess that just proves your point, doesn't it? Have some toast!" He snatched up a piece of the browned bread and held it up as a peace offering, feeling the heat rise to his face as Snape simply arched an eyebrow and swept up to the head table. Harry gaped after him, his hand still extended with the toast-offering.

"Well that went well." Harry grumbled, throwing the toast back down on his plate and pouring himself another cup of coffee. He glanced back up at the head table, ducking his head as Snape continued to glare daggers at him. "Note to self—don't call Snape names—even if you think he might be joking."

He picked up a fork and sullenly stabbed at the piece of toast on his plate. Great. Now he was _sulking—_because _Snape_ was mad at him. He must be suffering from sleep deprivation more than he thought.

"Hey Harry." Ginny yawned, sitting next to him. She glanced at him and his mutilated toast, raising an eyebrow. "Are you going to tell me about it?"

"No. Eat some toast." Harry winced—was that becoming his answer to everything?

Ginny just stared at him blankly. "You know it doesn't actually work when you try to distract me with toast—try something more appetizing. Chocolate or Crème Brule would be more appropriate."

"I'm fresh out of both, so toast will have to work." Harry muttered, taking a determined sip of his coffee and flicking his eyes back to the head table. Snape was surveying the hall over the rim of his cup. He arched one eyebrow at Harry when his eyes finally came to rest on him.

Harry got the message, turning his gaze back to his plate and grabbing a fresh piece of toast that wasn't shredded to bits. He buttered it half-heartedly.

"What happened between you and Snape?" Ginny asked casually.

"Nothing. Just eat your toast." Harry said stubbornly.

"You're pouting."

"I am not!"

"Yes you are. Look—why don't you just go talk to him? You didn't get a chance to talk to him after he woke up, and don't you dare try to tell me you weren't disappointed by that!" Harry snapped his mouth shut. "So, if you want to talk to him just go knock on his office door sometime. He's probably expecting you to anyways."

"Why would he be expecting that!?" Harry asked sullenly.

"Because he knows you're a reckless Gryffindor and you won't give up until you've had your say. So after classes go hunt him down and say what you have to say."

Harry slowly took a bite of his toast, glancing up at the head table one more time. "I know I should—but I don't know what I want to say. I'll probably just screw it up—I'm really good at that when I'm talking to him."

"Really. And how did you screw it up today?"

"I called him a 'sardonic ass.'" Harry muttered, bracing himself before Ginny slapped him upside the head.

"So give him a few days to cool off. And don't do it again. There! Problem solved. Now eat something besides a piece of toast or you're going to be starving halfway through your first class. And quit jiggling your leg—how much coffee have you had?"

Harry groaned, plunking his head down on the table. "Not nearly enough, Ginny. Not _nearly_ enough."

"Don't be such a drama queen." Ginny smirked at his glare. "Didn't sleep well?"

"Nope."

"Right. Well, shove down a few pieces of bacon at least, and chug another cup of coffee. We've got to get to Herbology."

Harry did as he was told, scowling as he followed Ginny out of the Great Hall.

Herbology passed by slowly, and Harry was antsy all the way through. They were transplanting cuttings from the Whomping Willow, and the cuttings Harry was transplanting kept smacking him in the knuckles. One particularly energetic cutting managed to hook him in the nose when he bent over to dish more soil into the pot—and he was still stemming the flow of blood as he stomped back up to the castle to clean up before his first Ancient Runes class.

Professor Tawney was absolutely tickled to see him—and the third year Ravenclaws and Slytherins he was sharing the class with wouldn't stop staring at him. Though, he supposed that was due in part because his nose started bleeding again half-way through class and he didn't notice until it started dripping on his notes. It was not his best moment—his blood sugar had taken the opportunity to crash leaving him feeling dull and shaky, and he was fairly certain Professor Tawney thought he was an imbecile. He had been shaking so bad that he'd lit his notes on fire instead of disappearing the droplets of blood.

A quick trip to the infirmary fixed his nose, but did nothing to improve his mood as he trudged down to the Great Hall for lunch. This time, he was sure to eat plenty as he downed more coffee and slipped back upstairs to see Remus before class.

"Harry!" Remus' smile dimmed a little, even though Harry was smiling at the older man. "Come in! Can I get you some tea or coffee?"

Harry just shook his head, figuring it would be best not to overdue the caffeine for a second time that day. Remus' office was almost exactly as it had been back in Harry's third year—except now there were pictures up of Teddy, Tonks and Andromeda—as well as Harry and Sirius and a handful of order members. Harry smiled when he saw the picture of himself with Snuffles chasing him—tongue lolling out and laughter easily visible in his canine eyes.

"How are your classes going so far?" Remus asked, pouring himself a cup of tea.

"Pretty good—well except for today. I got my ass handed to me by a Whomping Willow sapling in Herbology and accidentally set my notes on fire during Ancient Runes." Harry sighed, dropping boneless into a chair.

"I see." Remus leaned against his desk. "Want to talk about it?"

Harry hesitated for a minute, before launching into the explanation—the sleepless night, too much coffee—the little snit he'd had with Snape and Ginny's _ridiculous_ suggestion.

"I agree with Ginny." Remus said when Harry was done. "You ought to go talk to him. Settle things, say what's on your mind—though I don't think you need to let him cool down. I'm not certain, but I think Severus was pulling your chain when he got 'angry' with you."

"What?" Harry blinked at him. "You mean he was _teasing _me?"

"It's a good possibility." Remus shrugged. "Mind you, you still shouldn't be calling the Headmaster a 'sardonic ass,' but I imagine if Severus was truly incensed he'd have been a lot more vicious. It was probably more to ensure himself that he could still make you stutter if he wanted to."

"But-but… I didn't stutter!"

"No. You offered him toast as a peace offering." Remus pointed out smugly, grinning when Harry flushed.

"I totally got played." Harry mumbled, squeezing his eyes shut and rubbing his temples. "He'd probably laugh his ass off if he knew how _off_ I was because of that."

"I'm tempted to laugh myself." Remus admitted sheepishly. "Who would have ever thought I'd see the day where you pouted yourself silly because of an argument with Severus Snape?"

"I am not pouting!" Harry crossed his arms, sticking his tongue out at the smirking werewolf—but he couldn't help but smile at their easy banter. "Okay—maybe a little… but I'll only admit it under threat of torture."

"I won't tell a soul."

Harry grinned. "How are you doing? How's Teddy liking the castle?"

"He's adjusting—except he keeps imitating the house elves… it's driving Andromeda mad because every time she turns around he's sprouted these big floppy ears and bugged-out eyes." Remus rolled his eyes. "And he's teething, so he's cranky. But other than that, it's going well. I'm holding up—the first real trial is next week."

Harry blinked at him for a second before it dawned on him. "The full moon."

"Yes. Severus is making the Wolfsbane Potion for me—said he wouldn't trust Devereux to remember. But still—I'm not going to let the same thing happen that happened last time. There was no excuse for forgetting to take my potion. Severus made it clear that if I have another close call like that I'm gone for good." Remus frowned.

Harry shifted nervously. He couldn't think of anything to say to that. "Well, if you ever need any help with anything you can come to me. I'd be glad to be there—watch him for the night if Andromeda is busy or if you guys just need to take a breather—or if you decided he needs some time away from the house elves." Harry smiled warmly.

"Thanks Harry." Remus glanced at his watch. "Well, class is going to start soon—I should get ready. Want to help me set up?"

"Sure!" Harry stood and stretched. "What are we doing today?"

"Review mostly—but be prepared for some serious homework. We're starting curse detection—there's a lot of theory we'll have to cover before we cover curse _breaking_."

Harry shrugged. "It's NEWTs. Of course there's going to be homework."

"Not always—each section I'll give the students a chance to take a quiz and opt out if they can. There are a few things I'm sure you'll be able to pass with flying colors."

"Patronus?" Harry asked.

"One of the things—but I'm not going to spoil the entire semester. Where's the fun in that?" Remus motioned him out of the door, leading him down a hallway and into the new wing. Harry grimaced when he saw the stone engraved with the name 'Potter Wing.'

"That's really in bad taste." Harry muttered. He heard Remus chuckle as they continued down the hall.

"What the bloody hell!?" Harry froze, staring at a giant painting that ran nearly the length of the entire wall. It was a painting of the final battle—Harry watched in horror as he saw a painted version of Neville lobbing the head off the giant snake—and then, right in the middle of it was Harry and Voldemort, locked in a duel. Green light met red, and Voldemort was flying backwards. As Harry got closer, he heard his painted self shouting.

"Take that, Voldie you noseless bastard!"

"This grows tiresome!" Voldemort's painted form muttered from his prone spot on the ground. "Must we continue this meaningless duel!? We know how it ends! You've only killed me close to a _thousand_ times over!"

"Shut up Voldie!" Neville was positively strutting as he walked around with the sword of Gryffindor on his shoulder. "You just don't like having your snake slashed all night!"

"Stuff it, Longbottom." Voldemort pulled himself to his feet. "I still get to set your head on fire!"

"Gah!" The sword of Gryffindor was suddenly gone, and Neville was trying to get the burning sorting hat off his head. A second later, he had the sword in hand and was lobbing off Nagini's head.

"Ooh! Shoulda kept your snake in its skin!" Neville gloated, while Harry and Voldemort faced off again.

"I'm not saying it." Voldemort snapped. "I'm not saying any of it."

"We'll just skip to the good part then." Harry brandished his wand.

"Avada Kedavra!"

"Expelliarmus!"

Red light and Green light met again, rushing back towards Voldemort who went flying straight off the edge of the portrait.

"Alright there, ol' noseless!?"

"I told you NEVER TO CALL ME THAT!" Voldemort shrieked as he lumbered back into the painting.

Portrait Harry put his hands on his hips. "What are you going to do about it?"

"Really!?" The real Harry turned incredulously to Remus. "That's absolutely disgusting."

Remus shrugged. "The board of governors—they caught the 'post-war fever,' it seems. Everything is about the victory and celebrating. The ministry is doing the same thing."

"I know—but this is just… wrong."

"It started out serious enough—they actually did a pretty accurate reenactment. I think they just got bored."

"I'd say." Harry snorted, rolling his eyes as Portrait Harry and Voldemort started arguing again—and soon Neville's head was on fire. He followed Remus into the classroom, grinning when he saw the shaking chest against the wall.

"Boggarts?"

"Yeah. Thought it would be a good warm up." Remus smiled. "Though I don't expect to see the Headmaster in a dress again."

"No. Don't suppose you will." Harry grinned, frowning slightly. "You know, I don't think my boggart is going to be a dementor this time around."

"Really? What do you think it will be?" Remus asked, levitating the trunk into the center of the classroom.

"I don't know." Harry answered truthfully.

There was noise in the hallway—laughter drifted in through the open doorway. Harry rolled his eyes as he heard the shouting portraits.

"Noseless maniac!"

"Brat-Who-Lived-to-Sneeze!"

"At least I can sneeze seeing as how I have a NOSE!"

"Avada Kedavra!"

"Expelliarmus!"

"Whatsamatter, Voldie!? Cat got your tongue!? Or maybe your serpent is in short supply—because I cut off the head!"

"That's horrible!" Neville came rushing into the room, face flaming. He threw himself into a seat and buried his head in his arms. "Who would paint that!?"

"No idea." Harry muttered. "When I find out, I'm gonna give them a piece of my mind."

Ginny and Hermione came into the room, holding onto each other for support as they laughed. "Voldie, the noseless maniac!?"

Most of the class was laughing as they filed in, snickering over the enthusiastic painting. There was a mix of students from every house. Harry tensed a bit when Zabini purposefully sat close to him. Remus waited until they had all taken a seat before he shut the door with a flick of his wand.

"Good afternoon. We're doing review today."

That was when everyone caught sight of the shaking chest, and there was an excited murmur through all the students.

"Yes. I see you've seen our first task. What is it?"

"Boggart." Came multiple replies. Harry watched as a few students tensed up. Harry frowned when he saw Malfoy staring at the trunk with barely concealed horror.

"Now, who can tell me the spell we use when fighting a boggart?"

"Riddikulus!"

"Good. And what is it that ultimately defeats a boggart?"

"Laughter."

"Excellent!" Remus rubbed his hands together. "Take a moment to think about what you fear most, and how to make it less frightening. Everyone stand up and form a wide circle. I'll call out your name when it's your turn."

Harry frowned, thinking hard. What was he afraid of? He thought of a dementor, but it just didn't cause the same unpleasant lurch in his stomach as it used to. Voldemort was dead—as were most of his death eaters… He almost panicked when Remus announced that he was opening the trunk—he had no clue what he might possibly be facing in the next few minutes. It shouldn't be that hard to figure out what scared him—he had nightmares _every_ night!

"Give it a shot, Mr. Zabini."

Zabini stepped forward, brushing Harry's shoulder and startling from his thoughts. Maybe Remus wouldn't call on him again—he hadn't last time.

Zabini's boggart was an inferi—a particularly nasty one that was dragging it's intestines behind it. The smell of the thing had everyone gagging before Zabini shouted "Riddikulus!" The inferi started melting, seeming to fry against the floor of the classroom.

"Good! Miss Weasley!"

Ginny stepped forward, her hands shaking slightly as she held her wand out in front of her. The boggart turned into Fred.

"You could have saved me! You could have done something! You should have gone into the battle sooner! If you had, I might still be alive!" Boggart Fred shouted. Ginny blinked back tears, shaking her head slightly. Her voice trembled as she shouted "Riddikulus!"

Fred turned into Molly Weasley, but Remus stepped up before she could start yelling. "That's fine, Miss Weasley. Miss Lovegood, why don't you take a shot."

Luna stepped up, completely calm as Molly Weasley popped into the form of Bellatrix Lestrange—several people screamed. Harry saw both Hermione and Malfoy go rigid.

"What's the matter darling? Don't you want to play anymore?" Bellatrix laughed, reaching inside her tattered robes.

"Riddikulus." Luna said calmly, and Bellatrix's wild hair suddenly started growing, smothering the woman.

"Good. Mr. Corner."

Michael's boggart was a dementor—Harry sympathized when the boy was unable to do anything but tremble.

"Alright—Miss Granger!"

Hermione trembled when she approached the boggart—which turned back into Bellatrix Lestrange.

"Filthy little mudblood!"

"Riddikulus!" Bellatrix's mouth was suddenly sealed shut.

"Good! Mr. Malfoy."

Draco trembled as he approached the boggart—but the boggart didn't change. Instead, the mouth reformed and Bellatrix smiled at him.

"Draco darling. You can't be caught helping the Dark Lord's enemies—you do so disappoint your aunty, Draco. A little lesson is in order." Bellatrix moved to pull out her wand, and still Draco did nothing. Whispers broke out as Remus went forward again.

"That's enough, Mr. Malfoy. Mr. Longbottom!"

Harry was beginning to think that Remus wasn't going to call on him—only this time he was grateful. He wasn't sure he'd be able to deal with whatever his boggart turned into.

Neville's boggart turned into Nagini—nearly everyone in the room screamed. Neville stood frozen for a minute and screamed "Riddikulus."

The snake's head fell off with a sickening thud.

"Good. Harry!"

Harry startled a bit before he stepped towards the dead snake. He held his breath as it trembled for a second before shifting. Into himself.

Harry blinked at the copy of himself.

"You know you shouldn't be here." Boggart Harry said. "You don't have the right—and it will come back around. You weren't supposed to leave that station—the balance will come back, one way or another. What price do you think you'll pay for your happiness—"

Remus pushed Harry out of the way, shouting "Ridikulus!" before the boggart even had a chance to change. Another flick of his wand had it back in the trunk.

"Everyone have a seat."

Harry was shaking as he sat down. That had been… truly terrifying.

"I want everyone here to think back to what happened the last time you faced the boggart."

There was silence.

"This time was harder, wasn't it?"

More silence.

"Just because the war's over, doesn't mean our fears die—they may change, and they may become more abstract—but they still live. The purpose for facing the boggart today was not to review—it was to remind you that now isn't the time to be complacent. There are still plenty of evils out there despite the fact that Voldemort is dead." Remus looked very tired as he talked, and Harry couldn't help but wonder what Remus' boggart was now—he couldn't imagine it still being the moon.

"That will be all for today. Your homework this week is to right a short essay on what you think the biggest threat is now." Remus opened the door with a flick of his wand.

Harry didn't move from his seat—instead waiting for the class to file out before going up to Remus.

"I wasn't expecting that." Harry muttered.

Remus watched him warily. "What did it mean when it said you weren't supposed to leave the station?"

Harry shifted nervously, sighing before saying honestly. "I'm not ready to talk about that."

"Alright." Remus pulled him into a brief hug. "You do deserve to be here, and you deserve happiness with no strings attached."

"I know that." Harry muttered. "It's just—it's never worked out like that before. Something always goes wrong—horribly, terribly wrong." Harry shuddered, blinking back the assault of tears that came out of nowhere. "What would your boggart have been?"

Remus was silent for a minute, looking older and more sickly than Harry had ever seen him look. "It would have been very similar to Ginny's boggart."

Harry's breath hitched, and he pulled Remus into another hug, this one tighter. "There's still a long ways to go before the war's really over for us, isn't there?"

"Yes. But it will get easier." Remus petted his hair gently. "You should go lay down for a while before dinner. You look terrible."

Harry didn't say anything, just clung to Remus like a lifeline for another few seconds before letting go. "I guess. You should get some rest too. I know it can't be easy teaching lessons like that."

Remus smiled sadly. "No. But it's very much necessary."

Harry nodded his agreement, walking with Remus out of the classroom and ignoring the Final Battle that was still raging. He left Remus at his office, heading straight to his dormitory. He wasn't really surprised to see Luna and Ginny in the sitting room with Neville and Hermione. Ginny looked like she had been crying.

"Hey." Harry said quietly, going to Ginny and pulling her into a hug. She sniffled a little, but didn't start crying again.

"That was intense." Neville muttered.

"Yes it was." Hermione agreed. "Harry?"

"What?" Harry asked, pulling out of his hug with Ginny and giving her a weak smile.

"You deserve happiness."

Harry shook his head. "I know. It's just…"

"It always comes with a price." Luna supplied for him.

"Yes. Exactly." Harry pinched the bridge of his nose. "I need to lay down for a bit. I'll see you guys at dinner." Harry slipped into the room, tossing his book bag on the ground and flopping down on the bed. He stretched out over the softness of the bed, but couldn't seem to get comfortable for a long time. He was exhausted, but sleep wouldn't come.

Was something going to go terribly wrong because he was happy? Was he happy? Harry smiled wryly into the darkness. That was a stupid question. Of course he was. He hadn't been this happy in years. Voldemort was dead, he was back at the only place he had ever felt at home, surrounded by people he loved…

He wondered if Snape ever felt this way—like he had cheated death. He knew the man had never allowed himself to be happy. Harry frowned at the top of his four-poster bed. If he had indeed cheated death, would it come back to claim him? Or would he have to pay the piper some other way? Harry shuddered, trying to push his mind away from the morbid thoughts. It wouldn't do to fall asleep thinking about such things.

Instead, he considered the best way to approach Snape. His insides squirmed with embarrassment when he realized he had nearly had a breakdown just because he thought the man was furious with him. Leave it to Snape to still be the bane of his existence. "He probably did it on purpose."

But he wasn't entirely sure that the anger had been faked—the dark 'I'm tempted to murder you' glare and the abrupt way he had turned on his heel and left—it certainly _seemed_ like the man was angry. But then, this was Severus Snape—spy extraordinaire—he could easily pull that off as an act. And it wasn't like he had cursed Harry into oblivion or chopped him up for potions ingredients.

That made Harry a little mad. Was the man just playing with him? If he was, why? Did it give him some sort of amusement to see Harry falter and twitch under his dark gaze?

Harry yawned again. Whatever the reason, he decided he wouldn't put off going to talk to the man too much longer. He needed to get it over with so he could move on and stop—dare he say—_obsessing_.

Harry was feeling heavy, and his eyes slowly fluttered closed. Whatever he was going to do, he'd worry about it later.


	5. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

Once again, Harry woke feeling like he was about to face down Voldemort again in the flesh. His heart was pounding, and he was fumbling for his wand in the dark. He could hear the steady breathing of two other people as he forced himself to calm down and take a deep breath.

"It must be late." Harry muttered, finding his wand in the sleeve of his robe. He hadn't bothered to get undressed that afternoon. A tempus charm showed the time to be 2:57. Great—as if his sleeping pattern wasn't jacked to shit before.

Sighing, he climbed out of the bed, wondering how he hadn't waken his roommates with his nightmare when he had obviously been thrashing like no one's business. He'd torn one of the hangings on the bed. After a quick trip to the bathroom, he stood in the dark staring down at his school bag. He might as well try to get some more homework done while he was awake…

Instead, he unlocked his trunk and rummaged around until he found a small wooden box. He grasped it tightly as he slipped out of the darkened dormitory and into the dimly lit sitting room.

He sat down in one of the arm chairs, and the lamps in the walls seemed to sense his need for light as they sputtered to life. Harry glanced quickly at the closed doors of the dormitories before muttering the password to his little wooden box.

There were only a few things he kept hidden in this box—and he hadn't opened it since he had stashed the items away the same day he had killed Voldemort.

Slowly, with shaking hands he lifted up the little glass vial that held the memories Snape had given him when he was lying in a pool of blood in the Shrieking Shack. He had only looked at them the once—and had locked them away after that. He hadn't even brought them out for the trial—instead showing his own memories of watching the memories—and only the few that showed that Snape really had been working on Dumbledore's orders the whole time.

Harry sighed, looking at the silvery liquid—or was it mist? It glimmered in the light when he tilted the bottle back and forth. Harry quickly hid the vial back in the box, as if he was afraid the memories might jump back out at him again. Watching them the first time had broken his heart—he didn't think he could bear to watch them again.

"I should give them back to him." Harry muttered, picking up the second item in the box. It was his old Potions Text—or more correctly Severus Snape's old potions text. After Dumbledore had died, he had gone back to the room of requirement to fetch it—at the time determined to use Snape's own knowledge against him.

But he hadn't even been able to bring himself to open the book again. The mysterious 'Half-Blood Prince' had completely enthralled him—until that disastrous duel with Malfoy. He still flinched when he considered the 'Sectumsempra' curse. It had felt like a betrayal—but not so much as finding that the 'Half-Blood Prince' was none other than Severus Snape—that alone he might have been able to live with. But after Snape had killed Dumbledore—he had felt like he'd lost _everything_ in that one night. His mentor, his hostile ally, and his abstract best friend.

Harry carefully opened the book, staring at the handwriting dictating 'This book is the property of the Half-Blood Prince.' How could he have not recognized Snape's handwriting? Granted, it had evolved over the years—but he could still see the characteristic way the man curved his 's's, looped his 'l's and hardly remembered to dot his 'i's.

Harry turned to the first page, staring down at the crammed writing that challenged the Author's brewing instructions and quickly slammed the book shut. He pushed the book back into the box, but hesitated before shutting the lid.

The reason he had locked both the memories and the book in the box in the first place was to keep them safe. Particularly the memories, but the book as an afterthought.

He had been entrusted with Severus Snape's memories, and he had intended to guard them with his life. The memories were a part of Snape—but so was the book.

Harry shook his head, carefully picking the book and memories back up again.

"I should give them back to him." As this thought crossed his mind for the second time that night, he decided to just do it. He leapt to his feet, slipping both the vial and the book into the inner pockets on his robes. He closed the box, ignoring the rattle of the two other objects in it as he slipped back into the dorm. His invisibility cloak was folded tightly in a ball in the bottom of his trunk—he honestly hadn't thought he'd need it this term. He really was planning on following the rules.

He was already out of the portrait hole and moving unseen down the dark corridor before he forced himself to stop. What was he doing? It was 3:30 in the morning—couldn't this wait until a decent hour?

Harry shook his head, continuing on his path a little slower this time. Maybe he wouldn't actually go talk to Snape right at that moment—but he could definitely use a walk to clear his head and figure out what he would say when he _did _go see the Headmaster. Yes. That was a much better plan. He needed to reacquaint himself with the castle anyways.

There was no one in the deserted corridors—though he imagined that with the war over the teachers were enjoying the new found freedom just as much as the students. There wasn't any real reason to patrol the corridors any more—other than to try and catch students out of bed. But it seemed like that wasn't even a huge concern—if the lack of patrols was anything to go by.

Or maybe the students still hadn't broken out of the mindset that it was foolish to go wandering around the castle at night—and if the students weren't breaking curfew there would be little need for the professors to patrol in search of rule breakers in the dead of night, right?

Harry couldn't give himself a definitive answer one way or the other—but he didn't see another living soul his entire trek through the darkened castle. It was eerie.

Despite his own intentions, Harry still found himself outside of the Headmasters office, in front of the stone Gargoyle before long. He hadn't meant to show up outside of the Headmaster's office—had just been wandering around without a real goal in mind. But now that he was there, he couldn't make up his mind to leave.

But it wasn't like he could go up and knock on the door either—he didn't know the password. And even if he did, he didn't think it was a good idea to wake Snape up in the middle of the night—right?

"I don't suppose he adopted Dumbledore's habit of making passwords out of his favorite treats?" Harry muttered to the Gargoyle. The Gargoyle remained silent. "And it probably would do no good to knock on your head, would it?"

Or would it? Wouldn't there be a way for people to announce that they were outside the office without knowing the password? Harry raised his hand to try it, but abruptly pulled his arm back inside the cover of the invisibility cloak. What would he do if it did work?

"That would be a laugh. Sorry, Sir. Just wanted to see if it was possible to knock on the door without knowing the password to make the staircase appear. Didn't mean to disturb your sleep." Harry snorted, turning to walk away. He got a few paces away before freezing and walking determinedly back to the Gargoyle—reaching out to knock again. But he lost his nerve at the last minute.

It was an indecent hour—he wasn't even sure it would work. But if it did, he would surely piss the Headmaster off.

"I'll come back later." Harry told the Gargoyle. "It's really the only reasonable thing to do."

However he didn't move, just stared at the Gargoyle, hoping it would answer—give him some hint of what he should do. He felt inside his pocket, grasping his hand around the vial of memories. Now that he was here, he was unsure whether it was a good idea at all. What would it accomplish? Especially giving back the potions book. Wouldn't he be opening the door for the old hostilities? And was it too soon to be opening the door for the conversation Harry wanted to have with Snape? He had questions—loads of questions. But was Snape ready for those memories to be brought up? Was Harry?

Harry started walking away again—it was too soon. Not to mention it was a horrible idea to show up in the middle of the night to have _that_ discussion. Harry was halfway down the corridor before he whipped around and came back to the Gargoyle again.

"I'm going to lose my nerve." He informed the unmoving stone beast. "I have to do it now—or I don't think I'll work up the nerve to come back." Yet he didn't knock.

"Why is this so hard?" Harry backed away until his back was against the opposite wall and pulled off his invisibility cloak. He'd hear someone coming and have enough time to throw it on again. It was becoming stifling while he paced.

Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair and slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor, glaring at the Gargoyle.

"I don't suppose there's a mail slot to his office—that would be much simpler. I could do a ding-dong ditch and then pretend it never happened. No. Because then I'll have to come back at some other time and that'll just be weird."

Harry squeezed his eyes shut, leaning his head back against the wall. He cast a tempus charm. 4:08. Yep. An entirely discourteous hour to be knocking on someone's Gargoyle. He briefly wondered how early Snape woke up, and if it would be possible to just wait until a decent hour to knock on the door—but he had no clue what a 'decent' hour for Snape would be. The man got to breakfast early—but who knew what his morning routine was? For all Harry knew, the man was just waking up now to take a long, hot shower and get ready in leisure before going down to breakfast at 6:00. Or, he could be a shower the night before type guy and not be getting up until 5:45—then he'd just get dressed and immediately start on his day.

Harry pushed himself to his feet again, pacing a few times back and forth. Maybe he could—just…

"I'll come back later." Harry informed the Gargoyle, fairly certain that this time around he had made up his mind for good. He turned to leave, pulling the invisibility cloak around his shoulders.

"Mr. Potter."

Harry couldn't stop the shout of fright and nearly fell over as he whipped around and leveled his wand at the Gargoyle that was speaking with Snape's voice. The Gargoyle started to rotate out of view as the stairs appeared.

"You've been pacing outside my office for the better part of an hour. Get up here. Now."

Harry gulped, considering making a run for it. But instead he steeled himself and slowly climbed up the stairs. The door at the top stood open, and he paused only for a second before stepping through the door.

Snape was sitting calmly behind the great oak desk—leaning back in his chair with a mug in one hand and the other grasping his wand. Harry jumped slightly when the door swung shut behind him and he heard the grinding as the Gargoyle returned to its proper place.

Harry quickly looked away from the stoic Headmaster, instead taking in the changes in the office. The penseive he was so familiar with stood in the corner—but the shelves that had once held all of Dumbledore's undeterminable instruments had been piled with books. Instead of the usual straight-backed wooden chairs, two blue armchairs sat in front of the desk. The portraits of the past Headmasters and Headmistresses were all feigning sleep—except Dumbledore. Dumbledore was smiling at him, his blue eyes twinkling.

"Take a seat, Mr. Potter."

Harry obeyed, staring at the top of the desk as he settled himself into one of the chairs. It was surprisingly comfortable, but Harry didn't allow himself to sink into it. Instead, he fidgeted with the sleeve of his robe.

"Is there a reason you were haunting my Gargoyle, Mr. Potter?"

Harry sighed. This was it then. He forced himself to meet Snape's gaze and not look away.

"Yes. I-I wanted to… well…" Harry snapped his mouth closed, taking another deep breath and forcing himself to shut off his nervous stuttering. It was annoying.

"I'm sorry I called you a sardonic ass."

Snape arched an eyebrow at this, and Harry felt his face start to heat up. That hadn't been quite what he wanted to say—at all.

"It is of no matter, Mr. Potter. I did not take offense—I was well aware that we were exchanging playful banter."

Harry snorted. "So you were just playing with me?"

Snape smirked. "It was amusing to watch you squirm—though I can't say I was expecting you to _pout_ as a result of my ire."

"I did not pout!" Harry crossed his arms, huffing irritably. "I was just-just… I was just a little touchy about it…" He snapped his mouth shut when he realized that he had basically admitted to it.

"As touching as it is that you were so thrown by one little spat, I hardly doubt that is the reason you were lingering outside my office at 4:00 in the morning." Snape said pointedly, setting his cup down on the desk. "From what you were spouting at the guardian statue, you came here to give me something?"

Harry blinked, trying to remember when he had told the bloody _Gargoyle_ that he had something for Snape. The Headmaster seemed to follow his line of thought. "Unless of course your search for a mail-slot and intentions to perform a 'ding-dong ditch' was just mindless rambling?"

Harry ducked his head, completely mortified. Snape had been listening to him muse the whole time?

"Well." Harry hesitated, reaching inside his robe. He braced himself and pulled out the vial and the potions book. "I wanted to give these back to you." He set them on the desk slowly, pulling his hand back quickly.

For once, Snape looked completely floored. He reached out and ran a finger over the vial, then down the spine of the potions book before snatching the book up and opening it.

"You do realize that you have just given me proof that you were indeed cheating in Potions in your sixth year? And that as Headmaster I have every right to pursue whatever punishment I deem fits such an offense?"

Harry's breath hitched. No. He hadn't realized that—it hadn't even crossed his mind. "And what punishment do you deem fits my offense, Sir?"

Snape watched him carefully, closing the book with a snap. He then reached out to grab the vial—holding it up to the light and frowning at its contents.

"Why is it that you decided to return these to me now—at 4:00 in the morning?"

Harry shrugged, leaning back in the chair. "I couldn't sleep, and I kind of just realized again that I still had them—and once I decided what I was going to do with them I just sort of acted. It didn't even occur to me about the time until I was halfway here." Harry fidgeted, waiting for the waspish reply. It didn't come.

"Sir?" Harry slowly glanced up at Snape, seeing him returning the memories to his head. Black eyes turned to stare at him, and Harry swallowed harshly over the lump that formed in his throat.

"Thank you." At the brief flash of confusion, Harry continued. "Thank you for everything—for everything you've done over the years. For watching out for me and helping me even though I didn't know or care… and… I'm sorry I always tried to paint you as the villain when you weren't—you never were…"

Harry had to stop talking or risk breaking down in tears. He looked down at his shoes, blinking rapidly and taking a deep breath before he continued again. "No one has ever—done so much for me… and I want you to know that I do appreciate it—and I think… you're the bravest man I've ever known…"

There was silence, and Harry was afraid to look back up to see Snape's reaction. Would he be touched? Would he be angry? Would he even care? Harry swallowed hard, wringing his hands in his lap. Finally, he couldn't take it anymore and slowly dragged his eyes up to glance at the man. Snape was watching him silently, his face impassive though his knuckles were white. Harry couldn't even begin to guess what that meant.

Harry stood slowly, aware that the black gaze never left him. "I guess I'd better be going then." He slowly started for the door.

"That's it?"

Harry started a bit, and turned back to see the Headmaster on his feet, hands flat on the desk as he glared. "What's it?"

"That's why you came here? No questions? After everything you saw—I showed you memories I would have never shown you if I hadn't been about to die! And you have no questions!?" The man was trembling slightly, and Harry felt his eyes widen.

"Will you let me ask questions?"

Snape seemed to deflate at this. He slumped in his chair and hid his face in his hands for a second before straightening up and returning to his best stoic mask. "Just this once."

Harry walked slowly back to the chair, his heart suddenly in his throat. He had just been granted permission to ask questions—personal questions. Granted, there was no guarantee that he'd be given answers but still…

"Do you regret that you're still alive?" Harry wasn't sure where that came from—but he knew he dearly wanted to know the answer.

"Excuse me?"

"Well… the impression that I got from your memories is that you lost everything that mattered a long time ago—and that the only reason you kept going was for hope of redemption. And I know you didn't expect to live through the war... Then, that night… I got the impression that you were relieved that you were dying… Like death was something that you had been looking forward to for a long time." Harry bit his lip. "Do you regret that you're still alive?"

Harry slowly sank into the chair, watching Snape carefully as the man's knuckles grew white where they were grasping the edge of the desk.

"When I said you could ask questions, I did not mean questions of this nature." Snape snarled. Harry ducked his head at the true fury he saw blazing back at him.

"I'm glad you're still alive." Harry added quietly.

Silence.

"And pray tell, Mr. Potter. Why is it any concern to your happiness that I am still among the living?"

Harry winced at the wording of the question. "I don't know. I just know that when I heard you were still alive… after learning of everything you'd done—everything you'd sacrificed… I never felt so relieved in my life…" He didn't try to stem the tears that sprang up in his eyes this time. "I hated the fact that I had found out just moments too late that you weren't a traitor… that you had given up more to defeat Voldemort than anyone… I hated the fact that I thought you had died thinking everyone hated you… that in the end you had to lose your life on top of everything else you had already lost—that if anyone deserved another chance at a life free of that megalomaniac it was you… A lot of people died that day—but that was the price of the war… it was a battle… but your death just killed me…"

Harry finally fell silent, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. He gasped in a shaky breath and fought hard to stop the new wave of tears that threatened to overwhelm him. He started when a handkerchief was shoved into his hand.

"Stop your blubbering. I am not dead yet."

Harry grabbed Snape's wrist quick as lightning, looking up and staring into the dark eyes. "Do you regret that you're still alive?"

Snape stared at him hard for a minute, before wrenching his arm away. "Not all of the time."

Harry lowered his gaze, settling it somewhere around the man's navel.

"Do you regret that you're still alive?"

Harry blinked as the man repeated his own question back at him. He opened his mouth only to snap it back closed when he realized he'd probably give the same answer. Not all of the time. He returned his gaze back to the taller man. Snape arched an eyebrow at him pointedly.

"I guess I understand that." Harry admitted quietly, finally using the handkerchief to wipe the tears off of his face.

"I never expected to outlive the Dark Lord. Nor did you, I imagine."

Harry nodded in agreement, watching as Snape strode calmly back to his seat at the desk.

"Yet here we are—dealing with life's more _mundane_ issues."

"Isn't that the truth." Harry muttered.

"It will take time to adjust, Mr. Potter. But I assure you, it will get easier in time." Snape pinched the bridge of his nose.

Harry remained silent for a while, biting his lip. He didn't know what came next. "What sort of questions were you expecting me to ask?"

"I was expecting you to ask me questions about your mother."

"Oh." Harry shrugged. "Truthfully, I don't think I have any questions about that."

"I figured when instead you started in on the personal questions. Though I suppose I should have made my parameters more precise before inviting you to question me." Snape bent over the desk, resting his elbows on the wood and clasping his hands in front of his chin. "Since we are on this line of conversation, perhaps I should have you tell me about your boggart?"

"Remus told you about that?" Harry winced, scratching the back of his neck.

"He did. It was my idea to revisit boggarts with all the classes—to try and find out which students are having the most problems coping. The war is not that far behind us."

Harry remained silent.

"You do not have to confide in me, but I would encourage you to find someone to speak to—Remus perhaps. Or Professor McGonagall."

"I'm not ready to talk about it." Harry repeated dully.

Snape watched him carefully for a moment before nodding. "Very well. It is getting close to breakfast. I would suggest you return to your dormitory to prepare for your classes."

Harry nodded, standing up obediently.

"One last thing, Mr. Potter."

"Yes, Sir?"

"You will attend detention this evening with Professor Devereux for breaking curfew. Be there at 7:00 sharp."

Harry gaped for a minute before nodding. "Yes, Sir." He turned towards the door, pausing with his hand on the knob. "Is it okay if I come back some time to talk to you again? At a decent hour, of course."

There was silence for a while, and Harry couldn't bring himself to look back at the Headmaster.

"That would be acceptable."

"Thank you, Sir." Harry slipped out the door, having to wait for the stairs to rotate up to him before he stepped back into the hallway. The tempus charm showed him it was nearly 6:00. He hurried up to his dorm, sighing in relief when no one was awake yet. He took a quick shower and got dressed, snatching his school bag. Everyone else was awake by the time he headed back down for breakfast.

"Hey Harry." Ginny had beat him to the table. Harry glanced up at the head table, but Snape didn't glance his way. "It's Friday! Got any plans for the weekend?"

"Not really. I have detention tonight."

"Detention? Who gave you detention?"

"Snape." Harry muttered, snatching up some toast and taking a bite. He poured himself some coffee and took a large swig.

"When did you get detention? And for what?"

"About half an hour ago—for breaking curfew."

"I don't understand."

"I went to talk to him." Harry explained. "About two and a half hours ago."

Ginny frowned. "When I said you should go talk to him, I didn't mean to burst in on him at 4:00 in the morning."

"I didn't burst in on him… I kind of caught myself before I got that far—but couldn't make up my mind whether to stick to my decision and talk to him then and there or wait until a better time and risk losing my nerve. He got fed up watching me pace outside his office."

Ginny sighed. "Well, did you at least settle things?"

"Sort of." Harry replied evasively.

"What does that mean?"

"Nothing. Eat some—"

"If you tell me to eat some toast I'm going to hex you." Ginny warned, jabbing her fork at him for emphasis. "What did you talk about?"

"I'm not going to repeat our conversation." Harry leveled her a glance to make sure she saw he was serious.

"That's fine." Ginny shrugged. "Do you at least feel better now that you've gone and talked to him?"

Harry thought about it for a minute. "I guess so."

Any further conversation was brought to a halt by the arrival of Neville and Hermione and the rush of wings overhead as owls descended into the hall. Harry rolled his eyes at the expectant flock that landed before him.

"Alright. Let's have it then."

He quickly sorted through the letters, picking out only three worth keeping. He slipped the junk mail into his bag to dispose of later and opened the first letter from Kingsley. It was a formal invitation to an awards ceremony on October 1, where he was due to receive an Order of Merlin. Harry frowned, already decided not to go when he noticed further down the invitation he was asked to accept another Order of Merlin that was to be awarded to Sirius posthumously—and one for Regulus as well. He blinked at the letter, and looked around, noticing that Ginny, Hermione and Neville had all received similar invitations.

"An awards ceremony." Neville frowned. "Gran won't let me get out of this."

"Why would you want to?" Ginny asked. "You deserve an award—a whole slew of them, actually."

Neville blushed, but just shook his head. "Not really—I just did what I needed to do… It wasn't as big a deal as they're making it." The renamed 'Longbottom Wing' wasn't mentioned.

"They're awarding an Order of Merlin to Sirius—and his brother." Harry said quietly, carefully folding the letter. "They've asked me to accept it on their behalf."

Hermione smiled wryly at that. "About damn time, too."

No one said anything to that, mostly because they were shocked by her harsh language.

"What? Sometimes the situation calls for a few strong words." She sniffed indignantly. Harry grinned at her.

Ginny suddenly groaned, shooting Harry a half-hearted glare. "You know what this means?"

"What?" Harry snatched up his forgotten coffee, having a feeling that he wouldn't like what Ginny was about to say.

"I'm going to have to get you all sorted out for the ceremony. Casual dress is one thing—but a formal event… we have a lot of work to do. You'll need new dress robes—not to mention about a dozen etiquette lessons. I bet Malfoy would have some good suggestions to smooth out the edges. I'll ask Luna to bring up the idea with him."

Harry choked on his coffee, and Ginny gleefully patted him on the back rather harder than necessary. "You want me to take etiquette lessons—from _Malfoy_? You've gone around the bend! What's wrong with the dress robes I already have!?"

"You're joking, right?" This time it was Hermione who spoke. "You've had those since you were fourteen!"

"So! They still fit!"

"That's not the point! I absolutely refuse to let you run around looking like a ragamuffin!" Ginny smirked, taking a pointed bite of a sausage. "I swore that I would do everything in my power to turn you into a swoon-worthy specimen of the male species. And I never go back on my word. Besides, you could only benefit from my impeccable tastes and keen eye for fashion."

Harry sputtered a little more, before wordlessly snatching up his book bag and storming out of the door. He was going to be quite a bit early for Transfiguration, but couldn't be bothered if it gave him some time to cool his rising anger—not to mention the little bit of hurt that Ginny's declaration had caused. Was he really that lacking?

He knew Ginny hadn't meant it to be as mean-spirited as he'd taken it. But she made him sound like some grungy beggar that didn't care that he looked like shit. It had never mattered before—so why was it such a big deal now? He huffed as he threw his bag down on a desk, dropping heavily into the chair. If he had really looked that bad before, why hadn't anyone told him?

"You look irritated."

Harry whipped around to glare at Zabini as the boy settled into the seat next to him. "What of it?"

"Hey. There's no need to get snappy with me. I'm just making an observation." Zabini raised an eyebrow. "Tell me darling, what could possibly have you so out of sorts."

Harry blinked at him. Darling? He shook his head. "It's none of your business, Zabini."

"Please, I would much rather you call me Blaise." The other boy patted him on the thigh, and Harry stiffened. "I would find it much more endearing."

Harry raised an eyebrow, grabbing his bag and standing to move a few seats down. "I'm not particularly worried if you find me endearing."

"You will be. It will be more appropriate—after all I don't want you to end up screaming out my _surname_."

Harry snorted. "I highly doubt I'm going to be calling for _you_ if I'm in enough pain to start screaming."

Zabini's jaw dropped minutely, and Harry couldn't help but feel a little smug at his shock. Served him right. Did he really expect to sweep in and earn Harry's trust just like that?

"Whatever it is you're trying to get from me, I'm not going to give. I don't know you, and I don't really care to. I don't have the patience to deal with sneaky bastards that are trying to slink around and manipulate me. It pisses me off. So, whatever it is you're trying to do, you might as well just give up now before you get hurt."

Zabini just blinked at him.

"Don't look at me like that—I know you're up to something. I'm not stupid." Harry growled.

This caused Zabini to smirk. "That remains to be seen. You seem to have seriously misjudged my intentions."

Harry rolled his eyes. It didn't matter. Zabini was plotting something, and Harry was onto him. "Whatever. I know you're plotting something, and I won't be taken by surprise." Harry got up to move again when he saw Ginny, Hermione and Luna come into the classroom.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean—" Ginny started, but went silent when Harry held up a hand.

"No. I overreacted. I'm sorry." He grinned sheepishly. "Forgive me?"

"Of course!" Ginny threw her arms around him. "I'll try to be a little more delicate from now on."

"Good luck with that—you've always been closer to the twins than Percy in that respect." Harry teased. Ginny punched him in the arm. "Ow! See! That's exactly what I'm talking about! I'm wounded Ginny! You brute!"

"Don't be such a drama queen!" But she was smiling. Harry sat down in between Hermione and Ginny, Luna sitting on Ginny's other side. His smile faltered when he noticed Zabini staring at him. He arched an eyebrow before pointedly turning to talk to Hermione.

"What was that?" Hermione whispered.

"He tried to talk to me again—keeps trying to get me to call him _Blaise_. His reasons this time were that it would make me 'endearing' and he doesn't want me calling him 'Zabini' if I ever need to scream for him. It's bizarre."

Hermione arched an eyebrow, turning to stare at Zabini and Ginny started giggling.

"What?"

"Oh, Harry. I love you, but we really have a lot to work on." She shook her head. "We need to sit down and have a serious talk about this tonight."

"Can't. I have a detention, remember?"

Hermione suddenly reeled on him. "Detention? For what!?"

"Breaking curfew." Harry cowered under Hermione's livid gaze. "I'm not going to do it again! I promise!"

"Good! Because I'll hex you into next week if you start causing trouble! It's a privilege to be here!"

"I know, 'Mione. There were extenuating circumstances last night!" Harry cringed when she still didn't look pacified. "Snape understood—but he couldn't not give me detention for breaking curfew."

"I see." Hermione frowned. "Well—just don't do it again."

"I don't plan on it." Harry sighed, turning his attention to McGonagall as she strode into the classroom.


	6. Chapter Six

Chapter Six

It turned out that McGonagall was less than pleased that Harry had been breaking curfew on only the second day of classes, because she held him after class to assign another detention for the following night. After that, the day had passed quickly—he'd finally finished his Charms homework during lunch, and had drawn up a chart on the Magical Properties of Runespoor before dinner. After dinner, he'd headed straight for the new Potions building, easily finding Professor Devereux's office.

It took a few minutes before Harry's knock was answered, and the twitchy man just stared at him when he did answer the door. His bald head was drenched in sweat, and one eye twitched as he stared down at Harry.

"Er… Hello sir. The Headmaster told me to report to you for detention." Harry explained when it became clear that the man was waiting for him to speak.

"Oh." Devereux twitched again, but ushered him in the door. There were three cauldrons set out on a long table—each filled with a different bubbling potion.

"Those cauldron's need to be scrubbed." Devereux pointed to a pile of soiled cauldrons in the corner of the room next to a sink. "No magic—magic effects the cauldron."

Harry nodded, obediently treading over to the massive pile. These weren't the standard pewter cauldrons that the students used. Some of them were obviously solid gold—some of them were iron. One looked to be solid crystal. Harry tentatively separated the cauldrons from the precarious stack and filled the sink with cold water and mixed in the cleaner that was already set out.

_"You again! Jusssst wait until I ssstick my fangsssss in you! Then I'll laugh asssss your ssshhhiny head turnsssss purple and you ssssscream in pain!"_

Harry whirled around, watching as the Potions Master levitated a cobra out of a box. The snake hissed and tried to strike, its head flared out dangerously. But suspended as it was in midair, it couldn't reach its target. With well-practiced ease, Devereux manipulated the snake and quickly milked it's venom into a vial. Then, it returned the snake to its box. He repeated this process with four more cobras until the vial was full. The last cobra he didn't bother returning to a box—instead leaving it hovering in the air while he carefully examined the vial of venom.

"What are you doing, boy? Mind your own business and scrub those cauldrons!"

Harry started, quickly turning back to the sink and snatching up the scrubbing pad.

"And don't scratch the crystal!"

Harry chose not to reply. He could still hear the snake hissing out threats.

_"Sssstupid human! Jussst you wait! I'll have you ssscreaming like a bitch before long!"_

Harry suppressed a snort.

_"We ssshhall have the lassst laugh. You will regret manhandling me when you're thrasssshhing on the floor."_

Harry chanced a glance over his shoulder, watching as the snake writhed while the Potions Master forcibly removed skin that wasn't quite ready to be shed.

"You know, that's really hurting her." Harry mentioned, turning back to the cauldron he was scrubbing.

"Mind your own business. They are simple creatures—it won't remember this."

_"Oh yesssss I will! Jusst like I remember all the timessss before! Jusssst like I remember how you ssstole my eggssss and ssslaughtered my mate for your potionssssss! You conceited assssssssss!"_

Harry snorted. "Oh. She'll remember alright."

"I don't recall asking for your opinion, boy!"

Harry couldn't help but recoil slightly at the harsh tone. "It's Harry. And I thought it appropriate to pass on the message since she can't pass it on herself."

_"Yesss! Tell this horrible excussse for an animal that I'm going to make him ssssssuffer like he'ssss never sssssufferred before! When I get my fangssss on him, he'ssss going to wissshhh he wassss never born." _The snake hissed venomously, trying and failing to latch onto Devereux.

_"I'm ssssorry. I wissshh I could help you. But it'ssss not my place to ssstop him."_ Harry muttered quietly.

_"I don't need you to ssstop him. I will get him sssoon and he will be thoroughly fucked when I do!"_

Harry started laughing. He'd really never heard a snake curse before.

"Are you laughing at me!?" Harry yelped as a hand descended on his shoulder and he was forcefully turned to face the bald man. "I will not tolerate the likes of you ridiculing me!"

Harry tried to shrug the man's hand off his shoulder. "I wasn't laughing at you! I was laughing at the snake. She was cursing at you."

The man seemed to swell, and the grip on his shoulder tightened painfully. "Do not take me for a fool, you miserable little rodent! I am not an imbecile—telling me secret messages from snakes! That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. You were laughing at me!" Devereux's eyes widened, and his pupils dilated. He pulled Harry closer so he was snarling in his face. "You won't make a fool out of me!"

"I'm not trying to!" Harry finally pushed away from the man, who had gone slightly purple and was twitching more than ever. "I'm a confirmed Parselmouth! You could ask anyone!"

"Lies! Get out of my sight, boy! I will not be laughed at in my own lab!"

Harry gaped at the man, ducking out of his reach when he tried to grab his collar. "You don't want me to finish the cauldrons?"

"GET OUT!"

Harry sprinted to the door, slamming it closed behind him as something heavy crashed into the door. The wood rattled threateningly, and he high-tailed it out of the building. He ignored the curious stares of his classmates as he rushed through the castle, finally flying through the portrait hole into the sitting room. Ginny and Hermione looked up from where they were huddled on the couch.

"That was fast. What's wrong!?" Both girls were suddenly at his side as he grasped the stitch in his side.

"That man is a lunatic." Harry gasped. "He freaked out at me—started throwing stuff!"

"Who?"

"Devereux!"

Hermione suddenly straightened up, rolling her eyes. "Oh. Him. Yes, he is rather unstable."

Harry blinked at her. "Is he like that in class?"

"Well, he's very arrogant. Doesn't pay any attention to us at all. Just tells us to make a potion—and if he has to address any of us it's 'boy' or 'girl.' I don't think he has any intention of learning our names. He freaked out on Zabini for whispering to Greengrass this morning—seemed to think they were talking about him." Hermione explained.

"That's exactly what happened—except I was laughing at his snake. She was cursing at him." Harry shook his head. "He threw me out."

"Well, don't complain. At least your detention's over early!" Ginny smiled. "We can have that talk now!"

"Yes. But let's go into my dorm just in case we're interrupted." Hermione suggested.

"Will I be allowed to go into the girl's room?" Harry asked as Ginny grabbed his arm.

"Yes. Apparently there were no measures taken against _fraternization_ among the eighth years." Hermione shrugged. "They really are treating us like adults."

Harry allowed himself to be lead into the room and pushed down on Hermione's bed.

"You aren't hurt, are you?" Ginny asked.

"No. I got away from him alright." Harry shrugged. "So what did you want to talk to me about? Do you know something about Zabini?"

Ginny bit her lip, going slightly red and glancing at Hermione. The bushy-haired girl just rolled her eyes. "Just tell him—he needs to know or he might get himself into an awkward situation."

"Right. Harry. Zabini is indeed scheming—but not in the way you think. He's putting on the charm." Ginny said quickly.

Harry blinked out her. "What Charm? I didn't notice him casting any Charms on me."

There was silence, and both girls looked at him with wide eyes.

"Really?" Ginny snapped her mouth closed, exchanging a look with Hermione. "You know, I'm not sure if I'm ready to be giving _that_ lecture just yet—how are your skills on the matter?"

"No! I am not the go-to for _that_ topic. But I don't think we have anything to worry about. Not if he's _that_ clueless. Zabini won't know what to do about it. Besides—we should probably just ease him into it."

"Hello? I'm still here." Harry pouted. "What are you two talking about?"

"Nothing." Ginny patted his hand. "Eat some toast."

Harry scowled. "Why did you drag me back here if you're just going to talk over my head and not explain what you know? How am I supposed to deal with Zabini if I don't know what he's getting at?"

"Don't worry about that. You've been handling it just fine." Hermione stretched, shooting another look at Ginny. "We're going to have a girl's night in. Want to join us?"

"I'm not a girl." Harry pointed out slowly.

"No. But we can gladly include you in our girl-talk and you should enjoy our magazines." Ginny grinned again. "They're quite delicious. We'll eat chocolate and stay up all night talking about boys."

Harry felt the heat rising to his face. "Ooh. You know, I think I'll pass."

"Ahh. But it'll be fun!" Hermione wrapped her arm around Harry's shoulders. "Please Harry!"

"Please!" Ginny echoed.

Harry looked between the two pouting girls and slumped his shoulders. "Fine. But you will not even _think_ about dressing me up or putting makeup on me!"

"Deal!"

So there he was, lying across the foot of Hermione's bed and hiding his face in embarrassment while the two girls poured over some rather risqué magazines—they had both changed into their nighties, and had broken out a stash of chocolate and a couple bottles of wine.

"Oh! He's gorgeous! Don't you think, Harry?"

Harry only hid his face further.

It turns out Harry needed to be more specific when he laid down the terms of his surrender. Ginny and Hermione were true to their word and didn't try and force him into a dress or try to glob makeup on him like some sort of doll—but that didn't stop them from descending on him to give him his first manicure and pedicure. And apparently, his hair wasn't off limits either. Lavender had been absolutely thrilled when she came in, quickly breaking out her own array of nail lacquer and then taking a brush to his hair.

"Gah!" Harry was trying not to wiggle his toes—but it _tickled_. Not to mention the fact that he was gagging on hairspray and the fumes from the nail polish made his eyes water.

"How do you girls do this all the time!?" He sneezed. "This is torture!"

"The price of beauty!" Lavender said smartly, giving a slight tug on his hair. "Finished! Now if I could just add a little eyeshadow—"

"No!"

"But Harry!" Ginny suddenly whined. "It would make us happy! And it's not like it's ever going to leave this room."

"No!"

"Please! It will be tasteful, I promise!"

Harry rolled his eyes, looking between the three hopeful puppy-dog pouts. "Fine! But it will never happen again! Understand!?"

"Sucker!" Ginny grinned, leaping to her feet and running through the door. She came back a moment later with an armful of clothes from Harry's trunk. She smartly picked out his tight, black jeans and an emerald green button up. She shoved Harry into the bathroom while Hermione and Lavender poured over their combined makeup supply—it took up nearly the whole bed.

"You guys are _insane_!" Harry quickly locked the door, shedding his school robes and the t-shirt and jeans he was wearing underneath. He squeezed into the black skinny jeans and quickly buttoned up the shirt. "Girls. It's like they're fulfilling some life-long dream to get their hands on one willing guy…"

He had barely stepped out of the bathroom before they were on him again. Ginny quickly unbuttoned his shirt, rolling up his sleeves until they were at his elbow and threading a belt through the belt loops. Hermione and Lavender argued for a little while on the makeup, but quickly came to some sort of agreement and started slathering it on.

"What is going on in here? We can hear you giggling from our room!" Dean and Neville peaked their heads into the room. "What are you doing to poor Harry!?"

Ginny and Hermione suddenly squealed, rushing to cover their scantily clad frames with robes and blankets. "You can't just barge in here without knocking!"

"Harry's here!" Dean pointed out. "You weren't all shy around him? And what are you doing to him?"

"Torturing me, of course." Harry said glumly, trying not to blink as Lavender expertly coated his eyelashes. She hadn't yet changed out of her school robes.

"That's different!" Hermione squeaked. Her face had gone pink.

"You two better clear out, unless you want to be next." Ginny muttered, wrapping the robe tightly around herself. "We're having a girl's night in!"

"With Harry!?" Dean came into the room fully, but Neville ducked back out with a shout of "Have fun!"

"Yes! Now either clear out, or submit yourself to the curling iron!" Ginny waved said curling iron at Dean, who 'eeped' and slipped back out of the room.

"Bravo." Harry said dully. "You do realize you basically just told them that I'm 'one of the girls.'"

"Nonsense. You're clearly one of our victims." Ginny waved a hand, shucking the robe now that it was safe.

"Are you 'one of the girls?'" Lavender asked curiously, dabbing some lip gloss on his lips.

"I guess you can say that." Harry felt the blush rising on his face again. Lavender clapped her hands together as she capped the lip gloss, a ridiculously happy look crossing her face.

"That's hot!" She grinned and turned to Ginny and Hermione. "You realize we can't let a work of art like this go to waste, right?"

Hermione giggled, rushing over to her trunk and rummaging around. She straightened up with a camera in hand.

"No!" Harry leapt to his feet, backing away as Hermione loaded a roll of film into the dreaded device. "No! Absolutely not!"

"Harry!" Ginny put her hands on her hips. "You will not get out of this—not after all the effort we put into this! You are going to sit through a photo shoot!"

Her tone booked no room for argument, and Harry tried to make a run for the door—but Ginny easily caught him in a tripping jinx.

"It won't be that bad!" Ginny smirked. "Besides, you look absolutely edible! We have to memorialize this!"

"This isn't supposed to leave the room!" Harry argued as Ginny pulled him to his feet.

"And it won't!" Ginny assure him, making him lean against the wall while she magicked some black drapery behind him. He grumbled as she manipulated him into a pose. "I promise you'll like the results."

Harry rolled his eyes, but didn't argue. There was no point.

The next morning, Harry woke up feeling groggy. He had a headache—probably the result of drinking a little too much wine. He grimaced as he rubbed at the makeup he hadn't bothered to wash off the night before.

Hermione had enlarged her bed the night before, so it comfortably fit her, Ginny and Harry. Harry was pressed in between the two girls—who hadn't yet woken.

"You realize Ron would kill me if he knew I'd shared a bed with his girlfriend and his sister at the same time." Harry muttered. "He doesn't know I'm 'just one of the girls.'"

He haplessly crawled out from in between the girls, snatching up yesterday's clothes before padding to his own dormitory. Neville and Dean were still asleep, and he made it into the shower unhindered. The hot water soothed away the slight headache, and better yet washed away the grimy reminder of the hell the girls had put him through the night before. By the time he was dressed and heading down to breakfast no one else was awake yet.

There were only a handful of people in the Great Hall, and Harry was in no hurry as he poured himself a cup of coffee—he was slowly but surely becoming addicted to the caffeinated beverage. Remus smiled brightly at him, and left the head table to join him.

"I heard you went to talk to the Headmaster."

"Yeah." Harry sighed as he swigged his coffee and piled his plate with eggs, bacon and toast. "It went well—I think. Though I got a detention out of the deal."

"Yes. I heard from Minerva—she was quite displeased."

Harry ducked his head. "I know—she gave me an extra detention for getting detention."

Remus chuckled. "She certainly isn't lacking in sternness. Though, truthfully I'm not sure why you were expecting anything different at 4:00 in the morning."

Harry shrugged. "I hadn't actually been planning on disturbing him—he invited me in after a while of me sitting out there talking to myself." Harry picked his brain for a topic change. "Did you get an invitation to the awards ceremony?"

"Yes."

"They're awarding Sirius posthumously."

Remus frowned. "What do you think about that?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. I mean—I'm glad he's going to be recognized for his part in the war and his name is going to be cleared once and for all… but at the same time I still wish he hadn't died with most of the wizarding world thinking he was a villain. It wasn't fair—it should have been different."

"It should have." Remus agreed quietly. He squeezed Harry's shoulder as he stood, snagging a piece of bacon off his plate. "What are you doing today?"

"Finishing up my homework for the week."

"Want to stop by for lunch? Andromeda will be busy, and Teddy would be happy to see you."

"Sure!" Harry grinned.

"I'll meet you at my office at noon." Remus smiled before walking away. Harry kept smiling as he slowly worked his way through his breakfast and made his way to the library.

Harry had a good day—despite the dread he felt when Hermione informed him that she was going to Hogsmeade to have the photos developed. Lunch with Remus was great—he'd spent a couple hours playing with his godson while Remus worked on his lesson plans.

He was heading out to the quidditch pitch to fly with Ginny when Professor McGonagall found him and informed him that the Headmaster needed to see him in his office. Harry was more than a little nervous as he wound his way back to the Gargoyle.

"Alexandre Dumas." Harry wondered at the password as the Gargoyle rotated out of sight and the stairs appeared before him. Perhaps Snape made his passwords based on his favorite authors? Though, knowing Snape he wouldn't have a pattern at all. He knocked firmly on the door when he reached the top of the stairs.

"Enter."

Harry smiled weakly at Snape even as his eyes travelled to the other person in the room. Professor Devereux was pacing at the back of the office, arms crossed tightly over his chest and a firm scowl in place.

"Have a seat." Snape gestured to one of the chairs. "Professor Devereux has a—complaint—about your performance in detention last night."

"It is more than a complaint!" Devereux snapped, twitching as he glared at Harry. "This boy insulted my methods and my intelligence!"

Harry blinked at the twitchy man, turning back to look at Snape. The Headmaster looked annoyed.

"I didn't mean to upset you." Harry said quickly, turning back to Devereux.

"You criticized my technique and laughed at me!"

"I wasn't laughing at you! I already explained! I was laughing at the snake! It was cursing! Have you ever heard a snake curse? It's hilarious! They draw out their 's's and it's really hard to take them seriously!"

"Lies!"

"Gustave, please calm down." Snape said calmly. "I'm sure this was just a misunderstanding."

"There is no misunderstanding! This degenerate ridiculed me!"

"Enough. Mr. Potter, if you would kindly regale us with your version of what happened…"

"Potter? Harry Potter?" Devereux was suddenly much too close, staring at Harry's forehead. "Typical! Thinks he can trod all over decent people just because he did a little fancy wandwork and incapacitated the Dark Lord."

"Your version of the events, Mr. Potter."

Harry swallowed. "Well, I had just started cleaning the cauldrons when I heard the snake—it was muttering and spouting threats the whole time Professor Devereux was milking it's venom. The last snake though—he was collecting it's shedding skin and the snake was really unhappy about it—it was painful. I just told him as much—and then she started making threats and cursing at him. I laughed, and Professor Devereux got angry and threw me out."

"You see! He admitted to it!"

"I see." Snape raised an eyebrow. "Mr. Potter, you will apologize to Professor Devereux for demeaning his work."

Harry opened his mouth to argue, but Snape's glare caused him to choke up. Instead, he turned back to Devereux. "I'm sorry I mocked you, Sir."

Devereux snorted, turning away from him stiffly.

"Professor Devereux. I feel the need to remind you, once again, that this is a school. It is full of adolescents who like to whisper, giggle, laugh and make fools of themselves. Not every instance of such behavior is derision on your behalf. You cannot keep coming to me every time a student so much as looks at you disdainfully. If you truly feel disrespected, assign detention or take points—just deal with it."

Devereux twitched, storming out of the office. Harry stared blankly at the door before turning to look at Snape.

"Thank you for humoring him."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Is he for real?"

"Unfortunately. His social skills are somewhat—shall we say deficient. He takes everything as a slight against himself and is personally affronted by every wayward comment." Snape sighed, sitting back in his chair. "He truly is not cut out to be a teacher."

"Why did you hire him?" Harry regretted asking almost immediately when the Headmaster raised an eyebrow at him.

"On paper, he was the most qualified candidate. The next-best didn't even come close. And though I did know of his _eccentricities_, I could not turn him down for the job because it would appear as blatant discrimination based on the fact that we are contemporaries in our field with a penchant for discord." Dark eyes suddenly bored into Harry. "This will not leave this office."

"Of course not." Harry agreed.

"Very well. Now, as to your detention—I am of two minds. On the one hand, your detention was technically served because you dutifully worked for as long as the Professor required. However, I am not quite satisfied that it was a fulfilling punishment and am tempted to issue another to compensate."

Harry squirmed slightly. "Well, Sir. Professor McGonagall gave me detention when she found out that I had earned one in the first place—I'm to report to her office at 8:00 this evening."

Snape raised an eyebrow, smirking. "I find that—satisfactory. You may go."

"Thank you." Harry grinned as he left the office. He cast the tempus charm, making a mental note to pick up a new watch as soon as possible. There was still an hour left before dinner—hopefully he could still get in a few laps on Ginny's broom and work up a real appetite.

Sunday was a true leisure day—Harry had finished his homework and was relaxing out by the lake. His detention with McGonagall had been boring—he'd had to write 'I will abide by curfew' five hundred times. His hand still hurt.

It was a very warm day—almost too hot. Ginny and Luna were splashing their feet in the lake while Neville worked on the rest of his homework in the shade of the tree Harry was lounging under.

"I've got them!"

Harry sat up as Hermione came jogging towards them. She had a folder clutched to her chest and was slightly out of breath. "What have you got?"

"The pictures!" Hermione sat down heavily. "They turned out amazing!"

"Let's see them!" Ginny rushed over, throwing herself on the ground next to Hermione. Luna walked up at a more leisurely pace, leaning over Hermione's shoulder to watch as she pulled out the photographs. Neville squeezed in behind Harry to peak over his shoulder.

Harry groaned, burying his face in his hands as his cheeks flamed. He did look good—he had to give Ginny that. But the photos also looked like they belonged in one of the magazines the girls had been goggling.

The photos had been developed the muggle way—so they weren't moving. Harry was wearing his skin-tight black jeans—which Ginny had dutifully made just a smidgen tighter in the midst of the photo shoot—and his emerald shirt had been left open to reveal his slender form. The dark eye shadow made the green in his eyes seem to sparkle, and his lips had a glossy sheen that made them seem fuller. Several scars stood out on his chest—but Ginny had wanted to show them off.

The first few shots he had been standing, gazing at the camera from under a fringe of his hair with his hands in his pockets. He was smiling shyly in one, and very nearly pouting in another. The next one he had been staring out the darkened window, one thumb hooked in the waistband of his trousers and the other hand tucking a strand of hair behind his ear.

There were photos of him draped across the bed, the shirt sometimes slipping off one shoulder and one of him kneeling at the foot of the bed with no shirt at all, arms loosely wrapped around his waist while his head was tilted to the side. He was slightly flushed—his eyes were half-lidded and lips parted—just the barest hint of tongue sticking out. There was one taken from above while he was laid out on his back. His knees were bent, and angled to his left, his naked torso stretched languidly and his back slightly arched. His head was turned, and one arm was thrown above his head while the other hand trailed slowly down his stomach—the tips of his fingers dipping below his waistband and the button on his pants undone. Because of the lighting, you could barely see the glint of his eyes as he stared sidelong into the camera, and his lips were quirked in a half-smile.

The ones that finally undid Harry were a series that were taken at the end of the night—after Harry had drunk more than his share of the wine. Ginny had convinced him to lie out on the bed naked—with just the sheet pooled around his waist. In one, he was lying on his side, his head propped on his arm and gazing at the camera intently. His free hand trailed down the coverlet. In another, he was lying on his stomach—his folded arms pillowed his head and the sheet was pooled dangerously low at the small of his back. The last one he saw sitting up, one arm outstretched behind his back and the other resting languidly on his knee. He was looking away from the camera, and the sheet just barely wound around his waist—his left leg was completely bare to the hip. Harry gasped and tried to snatch the pictures out of Hermione's hand—intent on burning them.

"No! Besides—I have the negatives. If you destroy these I could always have more made." Hermione scolded. "You look absolutely gorgeous!"

"He does." Luna agreed. "It really is too bad that you like men, Harry. There are a lot of girls that will be heartbroken."

Harry sputtered, craning around to look at her. "What?"

"I guessed when you and Ginny didn't start dating again." Luna explained.

"You and Ginny aren't dating?" Neville asked. He blinked. "Oh."

Harry felt his face flaming and buried it in his knees.

"That's okay. It doesn't bother me." Neville patted him on the back. "Though I probably should have figured that out when the girls included you on their 'girls night,' huh?"

Harry chuckled weakly.

"Oh Harry. Don't be so self-conscious. And the photos really are spectacular. This one could be a centerfold in that Teenaged Dreamboat Magazine." Ginny said cheerily.

Harry growled. "Just don't let those get around—I don't want the entire school to see me like that!"

"I don't see why not." Neville said earnestly. "It's not like you have anything to be ashamed of."

"Isn't that the truth." Ginny sighed. "Luna's right though—it really is a pity that you don't like girls." With that she stood up, helping Hermione gather the pictures back into the folder. "We have to show Lavender."

"Yes. By all means—have fun at my expense." Harry murmured, sighing and lying back in the grass.

"We will. Don't get all gloomy just because you have sex appeal." Ginny chided, pulling Hermione to her feet. "We'll catch you later."

"Bye." Harry watched as all three girls walked off, talking excitedly and giggling with far too much enthusiasm.

Neville raised an eyebrow at him and rolled his eyes. "Girls…"

"I know. I don't understand them either."

Neville smiled, turning back to his homework. Harry groaned. "I just know those photos are going to haunt me for the rest of my life."

"Should have said no."

"Just wait until they get their hands on you—you won't be able to say no. Not when they do that stupid pouty puppy-dog look and swear it will bring them the utmost happiness."


	7. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

The next week was long—by Monday Harry had enough homework to drown in. He was doing his best to keep up with it, but he was starting to go stir crazy. By the time Thursday rolled around, Harry's brain was in a rather unpleasant state of mushiness.

"Gah—I'd forgotten how much work school is." Harry muttered into his morning coffee. Neville grunted his agreement next to him. "I'm out of practice."

"That's assuming you were ever in practice in the first place." Hermione snorted. "As I recall, schoolwork was never your number one priority before."

Harry chose to ignore her in favor of sucking down more coffee. He had Herbology first thing—and had no desire to get his ass handed to him by another plant. He was looking forward to the end of the day—it was a full moon night, and he was going to stop by to watch Teddy while Andromeda was doing her shift in the infirmary.

A round of giggling was suddenly directed at him, and Harry raised an eyebrow at the group of Hufflepuff girls that stared at him as they made their way to their table.

"What's that about?" Harry muttered, shifting uncomfortably as they continued to stare at him—whispering to themselves.

"They're pining after you." Ginny said smartly.

"Oh." Harry felt the heat rise to his cheeks. "But they're like—young! What are they, fourth years?"

"Third, actually."

"Even worse." Harry rolled his eyes.

"So who do you think will be filling in for Professor Lupin today?" Neville interrupted. "I hope it's not Snape."

"Not still afraid of him, are you?" Harry teased.

Neville went slightly pink. "No! It's just—I haven't really been able to look him in the eye since last year. I mean, I was doing my best to undermine him at every turn and make his stint as Headmaster a living hell—but then I found out he was one of the good guys…"

"That's okay, Neville." Ginny patted his hand. "If it really bothers you, why don't you go apologize?"

"I can't do that!" Neville squawked. "I would—it would be… just… Gah!"

Harry grinned sympathetically. "It won't be easy—but it'll help."

Neville grumbled something unintelligible, and didn't say anything further.

"Men!" Hermione rolled her eyes. "What is it about you guys that makes it so hard to apologize—or talk about your feelings at all for that matter?"

Both Harry and Neville just looked at her blankly.

"That's exactly my point! I mean—you aren't trolls for Merlin's sake! You have feelings! You feel guilt and anger and sadness—so why can't you sit down and have a simple conversation without making it seem like the end of the world?"

"I think that affliction is called pride." Ginny laughed. "It's the male condition—remember Ron and Harry after the first task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament?"

"Touché." Hermione grumbled.

"Hi all." Luna grinned as she finally made an appearance. She sat down and started piling her plate with pancakes and eggs.

"Hi Luna." Harry beamed at her. "How's the dragon taming coming?"

"Don't be such an insensitive berk!" Ginny snapped, smacking Harry upside the head before turning to Luna. "What Harry means is 'how are things coming along with Malfoy?'"

Luna shrugged. "I'm not sure—I think he's taken to avoiding me. His sentence got reduced last week—he said thank you, but I haven't seen him since."

"Oh." Harry frowned. "Well, I believe that's just a male affliction—it's called pride."

Luna stared at him levelly. "That's very astute of you Harry. Did you get that from Hermione or Ginny?"

Harry sputtered as everyone started laughing. "Hey! It isn't _that_ unbelievable that I might have something insightful to say!"

"Sure it isn't." Ginny chuckled, patting his shoulder. "But we doubt the deficiencies of the male ego is your area of philosophical expertise. However, when it comes to matters of good versus evil and the paradox of morality—you've got that covered."

Harry sighed dramatically. "You don't trust my feminine intuition? I'm hurt."

Everyone giggled, and Harry grabbed his bag from the floor. "Well, we'd better get a move on to Herbology."

Neville quickly followed suit. They were halfway to the door when the same group of Hufflepuff girls intercepted them. They were giggling like mad, and blushing slightly.

"Hi Harry!"

"Er… Hi?" Harry replied uncertainly. They giggled some more, whispering.

"You look very nice today."

Harry scratched the back of his head, raising an eyebrow at Neville. Neville just shrugged in response and the girls quickly left.

"That was weird." Harry muttered, leading the way out of the castle. "What brought that on all of a sudden?"

"Beats me."

The strange behavior of the female population of Hogwarts lasted all day. In Herbology, Professor Sprout would flush every time she glanced at Harry, and one of the Seventh Year Ravenclaw girls actually pinched his bum. He had 'eeped' and dropped his watering can, blushing furiously when the girl winked at him.

"They've all gone mad." Harry told Neville on their way back up to the castle. "Maybe the water's contaminated?"

Neville just laughed at him.

It was much the same in Ancient Runes—except at least Professor Tawney seemed indifferent. The girls from both houses wouldn't stop staring at him, giggling and blushing every time he so much as looked at them.

It was freaky.

Harry decided to skip lunch, and instead went to the library to work on his homework. The library was thankfully quiet—and the handful of students there were too caught up in their studies to pay any attention to him.

Malfoy was there, bunkered down at a table in the very back of the library. He was reading intently, and didn't notice when Harry approached him.

"Er… Hi." Harry said awkwardly, causing the blonde to jump. "Can I sit?"

Malfoy sneered at him. "I don't know, can you?"

Harry suppressed a biting retort and sunk into a chair. Malfoy stared at him for a few seconds before turning his attention back to his book.

Harry didn't say anything, just pulling out his own homework and disappearing into the shelves to find the needed books. When he returned, Malfoy was still reading silently.

"What are you playing at?"

Harry startled, blotting his essay. He quickly grabbed his wand to disappear the spot and raised an eyebrow at the blonde. "What do you mean?"

"Why are you here?"

"To do homework."

"Don't be dense—there's a dozen other tables you could have sat at—why sit at this one?" Malfoy was watching him through narrowed eyes.

Harry shrugged. "Just trying to be civil—break the ice…"

"Why? I don't want your pity, Potter."

"Good—because you don't have my pity. Look, Luna is bound and determined to become your friend—she's one of my close friends. I respect her opinion and I'm just trying to make an effort." Harry leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "If you don't want me here, just tell me and I'll leave. I've no intentions of forcing my presence on you."

Malfoy didn't say anything, fidgeting with the pages of his book. Finally, he looked back up. "I don't want you here out of some sort of bizarre obligation to Lovegood."

"It's not an obligation—it's… Gah!" Harry pinched the bridge of his nose. "I want to move on—from everything that led up to the war. I want to start fresh. I'm—I just—you know what? Just forget it." Harry stood to leave, shoving his stuff back into his bag.

"You want to get rid of old hostilities."

Harry blinked down at Malfoy, smiling weakly at the guarded curiosity on his ex-rival's face.

"Yes." On impulse, Harry held out his hand. "I'm Harry."

Draco shrunk away from the offered hand for a moment, eyes flicking back to Harry's face before slowly extending his own. "Draco."

Harry clasped the hand firmly, sitting back down. They were both silent after that, working their way through lunch. The silence remained as they both walked up to Defense together.

Outside the classroom, Harry stopped to glare at the portrait. His painted self and Voldemort were splayed out on the ground, talking and laughing.

"Really?" Harry rolled his eyes. "I'd seriously love to get my hands on whoever painted this…"

Draco quirked an eyebrow. "I don't know—it is rather charming. What with you chasing around 'ol Noseless and Longbottom's constant innuendos. Granted, this is a new development."

Portrait Harry had suddenly sat up, poking Voldemort. "I'm bored."

"Join the club." Voldemort batted the hand away. "I am _not_ doing it again!"

"But-but! Okay. How about this time, I let you win!?"

That peaked Voldemort's interest. "Really? You'd do that for me?"

"Sure!"

"Oy! Longbottom!" Voldemort was on his feet in an instant. "Get over here so I can set your head on fire!"

Portrait Neville strode calmly into the portrait. "Really? Is your serpent pining for a good shanking?"

Voldemort's only reply was to set Neville's head on fire. The next second, Neville had the sword of Gryffindor in hand and was chasing around Nagini—who apparently had grown wiser because she fled quickly.

"Your snake has performance anxiety."

"Oh do shut up!" Voldemort snarled, crossing his arms and tapping his foot impatiently while Neville chased after Nagini, finally hacking off his head.

"Bam! Your friend that slithers now withers!"

"Avada Kedavra!"

"Expelliarmus!"

The curses rebounded at Voldemort, and he went flying backwards.

"You little shit! You said you'd let me win!"

"Sorry, Voldie. I tried—maybe we weren't painted for you to be able to win?" Portrait Harry shrugged. "It was worth a shot."

Voldemort grumbled. "Well, no more! I'm done!"

Harry and Draco started when a throat cleared behind them. Snape raised an eyebrow at them.

"As amusing as I'm sure it is to watch this perverse reenactment, it is time for class." He gestured them into the classroom.

Harry grinned sheepishly, slipping into a seat next to Hermione. After a moment of hesitation, Draco sat down next to Luna. Luna smiled brightly at him, before turning her attention to Snape.

Harry just shrugged when Hermione gave him a knowing smile, carefully watching the Headmaster. He leaned casually against the desk, arms crossed as he surveyed the room.

"As many of you probably know, Professor Lupin will be unable to teach during the days of the full moon. I will be teaching his classes during those times. Professor Lupin has expressed the desire to cover curse detection and breaking—a decision I agree wholeheartedly with." He began, straightening slightly as he immediately started on his lecture. Harry watched closely, noticing the subtle change in the man's voice and the way the dark eyes seemed to light up the tiniest bit when he started talking about curses. "The chances of coming across a cursed artifact at some point are incredibly high—in fact I would hazard a guess that quite a few students in this room have already had their share of contact with such items. Therefore, it is highly beneficial to attain the ability to detect and negate curses on objects."

He flicked his wand at the black board, and a list of spells appeared. "These are the most common detection spells used when testing objects of questionable uses and origins. Copy them into your notes—for next lesson bring a detailed essay describing what each Charm reveals specifically." He paused and waited for the class to copy down the spells and assignment.

"It is of utmost importance to be thorough when checking suspect items—it is unwise to rely on any single spell. Can anyone tell me why?"

The class didn't react for a few seconds, and Harry hesitantly put his hand up.

"Mr. Potter?"

"Well—because there's a whole lot of different curses and jinxes that could be on an object—and a single spell wouldn't be able to detect every single type." Harry answered slowly, forcing himself not to fumble over his words.

"Correct. There are more general detection spells—however they are unreliable at best. They may simply inform the castor that there is dangerous enchantments on an object—but will not differentiate between a deadly curse or an anti-theft defensive curse. Also, curses can be weaved to be specific and undetectable if the creator knows how to impart such specifications."

The lesson was much different than the previous classes Snape had taught. He continued his lecture—asking questions occasionally. By the end of the lesson, Harry had a full three pages of notes.

"That will be all—Professor Lupin will be expecting your essays on Tuesday." Snape looked around the class, eyes settling on Harry. "I require a word, Mr. Potter."

"Yes, Sir." Harry packed his bag, but waited as the rest of the class slowly filed out. When they were gone, Snape closed the door with a flick of his wand.

"I was wondering, Mr. Potter, if you would be so kind as to gift me with an autograph?"

Harry blinked at the sudden harshness in Snape's voice. "An autograph?"

"Yes." Snape swept up to the desk Harry was sitting at, reaching into his robes and pulling out a small handful of photographs—which he set on the desk. "There are many photos of you circulating around the school—however they seem to be lacking. I wish to corner the market on the autographed centerfolds."

Harry gasped, snatching up the wrinkled photos—they were copies of the pictures from the 'girls night' and Harry felt his face heat up as he sputtered. "Where did you get these!?"

"I confiscated them from a group of third years."

Harry stared at him in horror, clenching the photos in his hand. Snape's eyes were boring into him, and his face was pulled into a disgusted sneer.

"I-I didn't… It wasn't—these were never supposed to be seen!"

"While it is not my place to dictate how you display your own body, I must insist that sexually suggestive photographs of this nature be withheld from the student body."

Harry buried his face in his hands, feeling the sting of the man's sharp words, his gut writhing in embarrassment. "I-I didn't mean… It wasn't my idea. I didn't even want to do it."

"Regardless—you are solely responsible for your person Mr. Potter. Cavalier displays of eroticism such as this are indecent in a school—not to mention tasteless and vulgar!"

Harry wanted to die of shame. He felt dirty and obscene. And worse—he had the horrible feeling that he had completely lost Snape's respect. He chanced a glance at the photos again, cursing under his breath—he was going to kill Ginny.

"That's why they were all going nuts!" Harry suddenly leapt to his feet, starting to pace back and forth. Snape just sneered at him, and Harry cowered under the cold glare. "I'm sorry, Sir. It won't happen again."

There was silence for a few moments, and Harry swallowed thickly. He refused to look at the Headmaster, instead glaring at the offending photos.

"See that it doesn't." Harry jumped at the slightly softer voice. "You may go. And take that provocative drivel with you."

Harry quickly scooped the photos into his bag—nearly sprinting out of the room. He didn't stop until he was well away from the Defense Wing.

It was absolutely mortifying—Harry sagged against the wall. He wanted to cry. He had never been so utterly humiliated in his life. It bothered him that Snape had seen the photos—that Snape thought he was offensive. Harry couldn't even comprehend why the man's opinion of him mattered so much. Though he figured it was because he looked up to Snape.

Harry sighed, cringing again as he thought about Snape's renewed contempt. He would never be able to look him in the eye again. With another sigh, Harry pushed away from the wall. That was just the way of it, wasn't it? After all, he _could have_ said no—but he hadn't. It was his own damn fault that he had lost the man's respect.

Though that didn't mean that he wasn't going to hex Ginny and Hermione when he got the chance—and give them a piece of his mind. They had _promised_ that those photos would never see the light of day.

Harry shuddered. How was he supposed to show his face again, knowing that most of the student body had been gawking at him like _that_? Luckily, he still had time to figure that out because he was going straight to Remus' quarters. He sighed again, slowly heading in that direction.

Andromeda smiled brightly at him when she answered the door, ushering Harry in and planting a kiss on his cheek. Remus was sitting on the couch, Teddy on the floor in front of him babbling and changing his hair from orange to lilac—Harry smiled, taking an armchair. Remus looked exhausted, but smiled at him gently.

"Hi Harry."

"Hi Remus. How are you doing?"

"As well as can be expected—Severus has me trying a new variation of the Wolfsbane—he's been trying to figure out a formula that reduces the trauma of the transformation." Remus' smile faltered a bit.

"Is it working?"

"I don't think so—or I can't tell yet at any rate. We'll see how I feel after the last transformation. How are you doing?"

"Okay, I guess." Harry sighed.

"What's wrong?"

Harry shook his head. "Nothing important—we can talk about it some other time. It's just kind of embarrassing."

Remus stared at him for a minute before shrugging. "Alright. I'm going to go take the last dose of my potion and lay down for a bit. Andromeda will still be here for a while if you have any questions—and you can always find her in the hospital wing if there are any problems."

Harry nodded, moving to sit on the floor with Teddy. His godson cooed at him and changed his eyes to a bright green that clashed with his currently orange hair. Harry smiled and ruffled the orange locks. "We'll be fine Remus. Get some rest."

Remus stood slowly, unable to hide a wince. Harry watched him go sadly to his room and shut the door. Teddy whined as Remus disappeared, but was quickly distracted when Harry started a game of peek-a-boo.

Andromeda came out a little while later, sweeping down to kiss Teddy goodbye and give Harry a big hug. "The house elves will bring dinner up at 6:00—Teddy goes to bed at 7:00 after his bath. He's been a little difficult around bedtime, doesn't like to be left alone. He'll fuss when you try to leave, but just let him cry. There's monitoring spells on the room that will alert you if something is really wrong."

"Okay. Dinner at 6:00, bath, and then bed at 7:00. Got it." Harry grinned. "Have a good shift."

"I will. If you need anything, there's floo powder on the mantle—just call." Andromeda gave Teddy another kiss and swept out of the door.

Harry spent the next hour on the floor with Teddy—playing with him with the stuffed animals that were scattered everywhere and showing him little magic tricks that made him shriek in delight and laugh that contagious baby-laugh that put an unmovable smile on Harry's face. Though that smile did fade somewhat when Harry had to perform his first ever diaper change—he was fairly certain he was scarred for life.

Dinner was a messy affair—Teddy got more food on himself than in his stomach. Harry grimaced at the mashed peas that had ended up in his own hair.

Harry had a bit of a scare when he was giving Teddy his bath—the boy was splashing and cackling happily, and squirmed a little too vigorously. Harry nearly had a heart attack when his godson toppled face first into the warm water, coughing and sputtering when Harry pulled him up. It had taken a while before he had stopped crying, and Harry had very nearly rushed off to the infirmary.

But Teddy had calmed down—he was scared but not hurt. After that, Harry changed him into his cozy little footy pajamas and tried to tuck him in.

The desperate crying broke his heart—he remembered all too well what it was like to be alone in the dark—crying and desperate for comfort. So, despite his orders, Harry had been unable to walk away. Instead, he scooped Teddy back up, rocking him and pacing the length of the nursery for a few minutes. When Teddy had calmed down again, he put him back to bed and stroked his hair until he'd fallen asleep.

Sighing, Harry quietly closed the door to Teddy's room, leaving it open just a crack so he could hear if he woke up. He was a mess—he was still covered in peas, and his clothes were soaked from the mismanaged bath. Harry silently cleaned himself with a few spells Ginny had taught him and set about cleaning the small apartment.

When everything was done, Harry slumped down on the couch with a sigh of relief. It was exhausting. He didn't understand how Remus and Andromeda made it look so easy.

He didn't allow himself to drift asleep, however. Instead, he grabbed his homework out of his bag—grimacing when he came across the photos again. He dutifully ignored them, instead ironing out his Charms essay.

Andromeda came in shortly after midnight, looking tired and sighing heavily. She smiled at Harry none-the-less and quickly sat down with a cup of tea.

"Everything go alright?"

Harry nodded.

"Did he put up a fuss when you put him to bed?"

"Yes." Harry couldn't help but shift guiltily as her eyes bored into him.

"You didn't just let him cry it out, did you?"

"I couldn't." Harry said quietly. "He was crying, and sounded so desperate—I couldn't just ignore him. It reminded me of—things."

Andromeda sighed. "That's okay. We're just trying to make him get over it—it's hard, because Remus cheats a lot. But I understand."

Harry smiled, slowly putting his homework away.

"So. I saw some rather interesting photos this evening."

Harry sputtered, immediately burying his face in his hands as his blush took over.

"I thought they were rather enthralling—but I see you don't agree."

Harry shook his head, peaking through his fingers. "Those were never supposed to see the light of day—someone messed up bad for them to get out like that—and Snape tore me a new one for 'cavalier displays of eroticism.' I've never been so embarrassed or ashamed in my life."

"Cavalier displays of eroticism!? Oh for Merlin's sake—they were very tasteful dear. There was nothing wrong with them. There's nothing wrong with a little exposure—and all the important bits were covered." Andromeda moved to sit next to him on the couch. "Really. You shouldn't be embarrassed. For one, Snape is a prude. The man covers _everything_ from the neck down. For two—you are an attractive young man. It's okay to allow that to show sometimes. For three—well I don't really have a three, but I do have a story that should make you feel better."

"I doubt that."

"When Nymphadora was in her seventh year, some photos went around the school—they were much more scandalous than yours—I guarantee it. She floo'd me in the middle of the night, sobbing and saying she would surely die of humiliation and begging me to let her quit school. I didn't let her of course—and she lived through it. In fact, she just got tired of being embarrassed and adopted that spunky, I don't care attitude—" Andromeda faltered, and Harry tentatively grasped her hand.

"Anyways, the moral of the story is—these things happen. The best thing to do is just roll with it." She squeezed his hand tightly.

"Thanks." Harry smiled, pulling her into a warm hug. "I miss her too."

The dam broke—Andromeda started sobbing into his shoulder. "I-I'm sorry… I've been… I've been doing so well… but it's just—sometimes I get reminded of her and it hits me all over again that she's gone!"

"Don't apologize." Harry muttered, gently patting the matron's hair. "It's okay to cry—I do."

There was a watery chuckle at that, and Andromeda pulled away. She dabbed at her eyes with her sleeve. "Most men wouldn't admit to that."

Harry shrugged. "I'm not most men—and I think that the people we've lost are worth our tears."

"You're a darling." Andromeda kissed his forehead before standing up. "I'm going to head to bed—you should do the same. Let me write you a pass in case you get caught on your way back to the dorms."

Harry made it back to his dorm unscathed, however. He was grateful to find the sitting room empty. It was nearly 1:00 in the morning, so it wasn't a huge surprise. Harry didn't immediately go to bed. He sat in front of the dying fire and pulled out the photos Snape had confiscated.

They were a little frayed around the edges—they had been passed around quite a lot by the looks of them. Harry shook his head at the image of his own figure playing to the camera. They certainly didn't look forced—but he had been a little woozy from the wine that night. And it had been fun once he'd gotten over the initial reluctance.

And damn it all if Ginny hadn't been right—he looked good.

But he still couldn't stop the embarrassed flush and the feeling of dread when he considered that the entire school had likely seen him on display like that. And he felt horribly empty when he considered Snape's reaction. Granted, Andromeda did have a point—the man very well could be a prude.

But it hurt Harry more than he wanted to admit that the man was disappointed in him. It stung—made his stomach churn.

Sighing, Harry shoved the photos back in his bag and headed to bed. He would just have to deal with the consequences. There was no getting around it.


	8. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

Harry got to breakfast early as usual. Snape didn't even glance at him as he came in—and Harry quickly set to eating his breakfast.

He had played with the idea of slipping down to the kitchens for breakfast—or skipping it all together—but had decided it was better not to hide. The sooner he faced everything, the sooner it would blow over. Besides, he wanted to confront Ginny and Hermione. At the very least to make them squirm.

He knew that they would never intentionally go behind his back and leak something so personal to the school—but they had a lot of explaining to do none-the-less. The minute that they wandered into the Great Hall he could tell that they were nervous and guilty—he fixed them in his gaze as they slowly approached the table.

Harry sat patiently, elbows resting on the table and hands clasped in front of his chin. His eyes were trained on Ginny and Hermione, and the two girls were standing in front of him fidgeting like mad.

"Well?" Harry finally asked, lowering his hands away from his face slowly and deliberately. "Care to explain?"

Both girls sat down slowly, exchanging a look before turning their gaze back to Harry. Hermione was incredibly red and Ginny wouldn't quite meet his eyes.

"I'm waiting."

Both girls rushed to explain.

"We don't know what happened—"

"We haven't shown anyone the pictures—"

"They just suddenly showed up _everywhere_."

Harry arched an eyebrow. "Well, they had to come from _somewhere_."

Ginny took a deep breath. "Well—our copies are still safe… so that only really leaves Lavender."

"Lavender?" Harry hissed, glancing around to see if the girl in question was already at breakfast. She wasn't.

"We're really sorry, Harry." Hermione said, reaching out to touch his arm. He shrugged off her hand. "We really didn't mean—"

"I know. But I'm still mad—and I'm going to have a serious talk with Lavender." Harry sighed, standing up. "I'll see you in class." He left the Great Hall, ignoring the giggles as he passed by the Hufflepuff table. Hopefully Lavender was still in the dorms—and if not he hoped to catch her en route to breakfast.

"Don't do anything rash." Ginny followed him out of the hall. "Don't get carried away when you talk to her. You'll regret it later."

Harry shrugged her off at the stairs. "I won't go overboard—but I can't let this slide. She has to know that she crossed a line."

Sure enough, he met up with her on a staircase on his way up to the tower. She was whispering with Hannah Abbott, and both girls froze when they saw him. He stopped a step below them, crossing his arms and arching an eyebrow. Lavender quickly reddened, looking down at her feet.

"Harry! It's not what you think!" Hannah squeaked. "It's my fault! Lavender showed me the pictures and I begged her to make me copies—but someone stole them! I never would have let them get out!"

Harry flicked his gaze to Hannah, watching her cringe. "That doesn't matter—it doesn't undo it." He turned back to Lavender. "You betrayed my trust. You had no right to be showing those pictures to anyone—let alone make copies without my permission. It wasn't your body on display—and if it were I know neither of you would have been so careless."

"I'm so sorry!" Lavender sniffled, wiping at the tears that sprang up. "I'm really ashamed that this happened."

"You should be! You have to understand that this isn't just some little embarrassment—not to me. I have to deal with the response to those photos—and the fact that they are just out there like that caused me to lose the respect of someone whose opinion matters to me—a lot! I can't get that back!" Harry clenched his fists, turning on his heel and walking away before he lost his temper for real.

He ignored everyone as he made his way back downstairs, sweeping through the Great Hall and outside. The cool air of morning was refreshing, and he bypassed Dumbledore Hall to go sit by the lake until it was time for class. It wasn't but a few moments later that Ginny came and sat next to him.

"You okay?"

"No." Harry said dully, pulling angrily at the grass. "I'm not okay with this."

"I know. But it can't be undone—you're just going to have to accept that."

"You think I don't know that? I can't undo it—I wish I had never taken those pictures." Harry sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "It's not going to just stop in the school, you know? It's only a matter of time before some reporter gets a hold of those."

Ginny squeezed his shoulder. "I'm sorry. But—is it really as bad as your making it? I mean—it's not like they're _that_ risqué—and you really do look fantastic."

"It is that bad!" Harry snapped, pushing himself to his feet roughly. "How would you feel if it was you?"

"I'd be upset." Ginny admitted glumly. There were tears in her eyes when she looked up at him. "I really am sorry, Harry. I never meant for them to get out like this."

Harry shook his head, taking a deep breath and trying to force away the anxious knot in his stomach. He crossed his arms tightly, starting to pace. "This is completely mortifying."

"I know." Ginny stood shakily, taking his arm. "We should get to Transfiguration."

Harry froze. "Oh. I really hope McGonagall hasn't seen those photos—it was bad enough that Professor Sprout couldn't look at me without blushing—I don't want to know how Professor McGonagall will react."

"I imagine she got together with the other female teachers to exchange the photos that they confiscated—I overheard Madame Hooch trying to convince Professor Sinistra to trade her some of the photos—she already has almost the full set hung up in her office."

"What!?" Harry sputtered. "Tell me you're joking!"

"Sorry, but no." Ginny shrugged. "They may be our Professors, but they're still only human—and strong women at that. They're going to admire those photos just as much as the students."

Harry gaped at her, but was distracted when they entered the Transfiguration building and noticed Madame Pomfrey whispering to Professor McGonagall—McGonagall discreetly handed Pomfrey something, and Poppy beamed at Harry as she exited the building.

"Can I just take a potion that'll make me sleep until this is over?" Harry asked faintly as McGonagall smiled slyly at him before heading into the classroom. "I'm not sure I'm going to make it through otherwise."

"Now you're just being a drama queen." Ginny grinned slyly. "Just try and imagine it from their perspective—you're a young, good-looking wizard—it has to spark their imagination and bring back feelings from their youth."

"Gah!" Harry covered his ears. "I don't want to hear about it. No more! I don't care what happens, as long as I don't know about it!"

Ginny snickered, grabbing his arm and dragging him into the classroom. Hermione was still tense, as if expecting Harry to explode at her. Harry thudded down in the seat between Draco and Hermione, leaving Ginny to slip into the seat at the end of the row next to Luna.

"Why the long face, Potter? Surely you aren't distraught over a few suggestive photographs?"

"Shove it, Malfoy." Harry muttered, failing to keep the blush off his face. McGonagall stood at the front of the class, and anything else Draco had to say was cut off.

Harry couldn't focus on the lesson, as hard as he tried. It wasn't long before he noticed the shuffling the row in front of them—Greengrass was sneakily passing something to Zabini. The blonde girl shot him a smirk as she looked over Zabini's shoulder. Zabini slipped the object into the back of his textbook, his eyes never leaving McGonagall.

Across the classroom, the same seventh year Ravenclaw that had pinched his bum the day before was whispering with one of her friends—they were looking at something under the desk. McGonagall suddenly summoned what they were looking at and raised an eyebrow as she looked at the photos.

"You will pay attention in class, or you will be asked to leave." McGonagall said coldly, though Harry was sure he saw her smirk as she slipped the photos into a drawer in her desk. She raised an eyebrow at him, and Harry quickly busied himself with taking notes. Beside him, Draco snickered.

"Something you find amusing, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Yes, Professor." Draco smirked at Harry, but didn't reiterate. Harry's face burned even more as most of the class turned to look at him.

"I see. However, if you would kindly keep your amusement to yourself…" McGonagall was definitely smirking. Harry cursed under his breath. He had probably lost the respect of a lot of people—all of his Professors—Merlin knew what would happen when the Weasleys saw those pictures. Ron was going to flip when he found out that Ginny and Hermione had been the photographers that night.

"Stop it." Hermione muttered out of the corner of her mouth.

"Stop what?"

"Fretting. It won't be as bad as you're worried it will be."

"That's what you said last time—but you can't be right all the time." Harry muttered back, shutting his mouth when McGonagall glared at him.

"Just ignore it and it will pass. People will get bored if you don't make a big deal out of it." Hermione finished quietly.

Harry shrugged, not lifting his eyes from his notes despite the fact that he could _feel _his classmates staring at him. Zabini in particular couldn't seem to stop smirking. Did he think he had something on him? Well he was in for a major disappointment if he seriously thought Harry was going to let him use this against him.

Charms went much the same—except Professor Flitwick dutifully ignored the whispers and the photo exchanges. Harry was battling a migraine by the time the class let out for lunch.

"You coming?" Hermione asked when they started up the path to the castle. Harry wasn't following, instead gazing at the lake.

Harry shook his head. "You guys go ahead. I just need to relax a little before Defense."

"Alright." Hermione frowned. She gave him a brief one-armed hug. "Want me to bring you anything to eat?"

"That's okay. I'm not really hungry." Harry shrugged, sighing heavily when another group of students stopped to stare at him as he passed by. He headed a little ways around the lake, sitting down in the grass and watching the water slosh lightly against the shore.

The sun was bright, but there was a bit of a cold breeze that helped sooth his headache somewhat. He tensed when he heard footsteps behind him.

"Hello, Harry."

Harry muttered a curse, pointedly ignoring Zabini as he sat down next to him—much too close—his arm brushing up against him.

"I find myself at a loss for words." Zabini explained, reaching into his bag to pull out a photo—the one of Harry splayed out on his back with his hand dipping provocatively into his trousers. Harry bit his lip, turning his head away as his face flamed.

"You don't strike me as an exhibitionist." Zabini continued. "I find it delightfully surprising."

"What do you want, Zabini?" Harry asked tiredly, his headache coming back full-forced. "I'm really not in the mood to deal with your games today."

Zabini ignored his comment, instead staring intently at the picture. "You had me going—really you did. You're sneaky—damn near as sneaky as a snake."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "What the bloody hell are you on about?"

Zabini turned to look at him. "Would you be willing to sit a private session? I'd be your photographer any day." He was practically purring.

"Er… Thanks but no thanks—the first time was a mistake. I'm not about to do it again." Harry rubbed the back of his neck, pushing himself to his feet. So much for a relaxing break.

"You would be upset if these photos ended up in the papers, wouldn't you?" Zabini asked, standing and taking a step closer to Harry. "You can't stand that they're all over the school."

Harry snorted. "So that's it? Trying to blackmail me? Well that won't work seeing as how you certainly aren't the only one with the incriminating photos—they're going to end up in the paper whether I comply with your demands or not—so you actually have no leverage against me. You're more stupid than I thought."

Zabini just stared at him, letting out a frustrated growl. "Really? You are completely infuriating!"

"Me!? What about you—all 'oh, call me Blaise' and 'I'm just trying to make conversation'—just tell me what the bloody hell you want with me!" Harry snarled, fists clenching at his side.

"I've been completely _obvious_ in my desires, Potter. It's not my fault you're as dense as a bloody troll! Really? Really!?" Zabini threw his hands up in the air and turned to walk away. He stopped, glancing back over his shoulder. "When you finally do figure it out, I'll be waiting."

"Right—because I'm going to just go running to you the moment I've figured out what you're after." Harry muttered, flopping back on the ground. Zabini either didn't hear him or chose to ignore him. "Bloody ponce."

Harry closed his eyes against the pounding in his head—yelling at Zabini sure hadn't helped anything. "Maybe I should skive off Defense—" Harry cut that line of thinking off fast. Remus was still going to be out of commission—which meant that Snape was still covering the class. And as much as he didn't want to face Snape again, he absolutely refused to let the man think he was a coward.

Harry pushed himself determinedly to his feet, snatching his book bag off the ground and heading to the castle. He was the first one in the classroom, and Snape hardly glanced at him from where he sat at the desk. Harry fidgeted as he took his usual seat and pulled out his notes.

"The lesson today is a practical."

Harry jumped slightly at the Headmaster's flat voice and mutely shoved everything back into his bag. He stared at the top of the desk, sighing heavily as he waited for his fellow classmates to arrive. Draco was the first one to join him.

"Still moping?"

Harry didn't reply.

Draco sighed, sitting down heavily beside him. "Really? You've had your name completely dragged through the mud—been called a hero, a lunatic, the heir of Slytherin, an attention seeking prat, and a wanted _criminal_—and none of that bothered you nearly as much as this. So, why are you so upset about a few photographs that are a bit risqué?"

Harry shrugged. "It's not the photos so much as it is the reaction to them—and the fact that my trust was betrayed."

"Please—spare me the sob story. Photographs are meant to be shared." Draco snorted. "It's not like they were embarrassing baby-photos or anything of the like. I heard witch weekly has already purchased copies of them and plans on featuring you as one of their top ten most eligible bachelors. That's not a bad thing, Potter."

Harry just groaned, letting his head clunk on the table.

"Not thrilled about expanding your fan base, Mr. Potter?" Snape sneered.

Harry glanced up slowly. "I have enough trouble with obsessed people trying to drug me as it is, thank you very much."

Snape raised an eyebrow. Draco snickered, leaning over to whisper conspiratorially in Harry's ear—though Harry had no doubt the Headmaster heard every word the blonde said. "Don't worry—I heard Severus has a place in the top ten also. He's one of the three most eligible but _unobtainable_ bachelors."

Harry snorted, pleased to see that Snape couldn't quite hide his disgust at the prospect. "Not thrilled about expanding your fan base, Sir?"

Snape chose not to reply as the rest of the class slowly started filing in. However, his glare was cold whenever he looked at Harry.

The lesson was difficult—Snape had brought in a number of different cursed artifacts and had set them in groups. Each group had an artifact and was required to give a detailed report of the specific curses, jinxes and enchantments on the object by the end of the lesson. Harry was paired up with Luna and Draco—they did fairly well. There were twenty-three separate enchantments on the vase they were studying. They managed to identify 19 different jinxes, one curse, and two anti-theft protection spells. However, for the life of them they couldn't figure out the last enchantment.

By the end of the class, their group came the closest to succeeding. Snape read over their report listing the methods they used and what enchantments were revealed, nodding in approval.

"Any idea what the final enchantment is at all?" The Headmaster questioned.

"No, Sir. We've cast every detection and revealing charm we could think of—from the list you gave us last time and others we were already familiar with. Most of them revealed the presence of the last enchantment—but didn't reveal the nature of it." Harry explained.

"Do you have any idea why the final enchantment wouldn't register by the spells you used?"

Luna and Draco simply shook their heads, and Harry hesitantly continued. "Well—I'm guessing that it isn't a dangerous enchantment—or a particularly strong one at that."

"That is exactly correct. There is a preservation charm on the vase."

"Oh." Harry blinked. "And how would we go about distinguishing charms like that?"

"One would simply cast 'revelio.'" Snape drawled smoothly. "Never forget to cover every angle—even the most basic detection spell will give you information. Other than that little slip up, well done."

Harry smiled weakly. Beside him, Draco and Luna beamed. Neville, Hermione and Ginny looked slightly put out as Snape reviewed their list. They had only managed to identify 12 of the 27 enchantments on the jewelry box they had been assigned to.

"You are really good at this." Draco muttered, frowning down at the list in his hand. "Where did you learn some of these spells?"

Harry shrugged. "I had to watch my back all the time—still do. I actively started checking my mail for curses and the like during fourth year when I was getting hate-mail due to the tournament. It was too much trouble to have someone else do it for me all the time."

Draco suddenly shifted nervously, and Harry narrowed his eyes at the blonde.

"Something you wish to confess?"

"Well… I was responsible for a lot of the cursed post you received that year." Draco flushed slightly.

"I figured as much—even if I could never prove it." Harry grinned. "Besides, I got you back for it. Remember that letter that turned your hair orange?"

Draco narrowed his eyes. "You didn't!"

"Of course I did."

"It took me a week to undo that!"

"I know—and orange was so not your color." Harry smirked. Draco rolled his eyes, but was smiling slightly.

"I'm so glad you two are friends." Luna sighed, glancing between them. There was a decidedly awkward silence at that.

"Er… Me too." Harry said slowly, scratching the back of his head sheepishly.

"You should know that I am going to get you back for that." Draco muttered.

"You can try." Harry grinned again, turning his attention back to Snape as he finished up with the last group. They were dismissed, and Hermione, Ginny and Neville quickly joined them as they walked down the hall.

"That was tough—Snape said that a lot of that sort of thing will be on the NEWTs. We should get together and practice." Hermione said brightly.

"Yes." Luna said dreamily. "We could make it a contest—send each other pranked letters and keep a tally of how many times each person falls for it."

Harry chuckled. "We could—what would the stakes be? And the time limit?"

"By the week before Halloween—the person who has successfully pranked the others the most and the person that has fallen for the pranks the fewest times are the two winners." Ginny supplied. She smirked evilly. "The winner who gets pranked the least gets to decide the theme for everyone's costumes and the winner who completes the most pranks successfully gets to pick the individual costumes within the theme."

Everyone was silent for a minute.

"I'm in." Harry agreed readily. "However, nothing too over the top—we don't want to get into trouble."

"Agreed." Malfoy muttered, smirking. "When should this contest start?"

"As soon as we're all agreed." Ginny said smoothly. "Who's in?"

There was a general murmur of agreement.

"Alright—so there should be a few basic rules." Hermione muttered. "First off, we should agree right now that the winners with be tasteful and not humiliate the losers too badly. The pranks should be original—no pre-made products."

"If we get someone that isn't a part of the group, can it count towards our tally for a successful prank?" Neville asked.

"That is acceptable to me." Hermione looked around. No one else objected.

"I can live with that." Ginny smiled. "And no one is allowed to back out from the Halloween party after the contest is over—and forfeiting counts as a loss."

"Right." Harry grinned, holding out his hand palm down. "Everyone bring it in." Five different hands soon covered his own. "As of now this contest is in full swing—and remember—if you're not cheating, you're not trying."

They broke apart, everyone smirking devilishly. They caught sight of the Headmaster standing a few feet away, one eyebrow arched and his arms crossed.

"Er… Hello, Sir." Ginny smiled. "We won't be causing too much trouble—I promise."

"I see." Snape raked his eyes over the group, smirking slightly as he swept passed them. "See that you don't."

"Did you see that gleam in his eye?" Neville whispered when the dark robes swept out of sight around the last corner. "That was scary."

Draco shook his head. "Tell me you aren't still scared of him."

"I'm not still scared of him—but he's still Snape. He can be intimidating when he wants to."

Harry laughed. "That's the truth. I'm going to go raid the kitchens—I'm starving."

Ginny and Hermione decided to join him, and soon they were sitting at one of the small tables in the kitchen surrounded by eager house-elves and what would soon end up being a three course meal.

"You're feeling better." Hermione commented as Harry happily piled his roast beef onto a dinner roll to make a sandwich. He added a little gravy and sighed in content as he took his first bite.

"I guess." Harry shrugged, taking another bite and chewing slowly. "I'd almost forgotten about it. There's nothing I can do about it, anyways. Might as well stop kicking myself."

Ginny smiled, patting him on the back as she slowly took a bite of her mashed potatoes. "Knew you'd bounce back from this."

Harry rolled his eyes, glancing around and watching the house elves already dutifully setting the tables for dinner. Harry suddenly smirked, standing up and rushing over to the Slytherin table. He carefully measured his steps until he was at roughly the spot that Draco sat at.

"Dinner's in another hour…" Harry muttered, pulling out his wand and starting to cast spells on the empty plates and goblets in the area. He smiled reassuringly at the worried glances the house-elves cast his way. "Don't worry. It won't do any harm and the Headmaster pretty much gave us his blessing."

They still didn't look convinced, but didn't try to stop him.

"What are you up to?" Hermione asked.

"You'll see at dinner tonight." Harry smiled, moving down a ways to where Zabini and Greengrass usually sat. Hermione and Ginny watched silently as he then moved to the Hufflepuff table, where Hannah usually sat. Finally, he moved to the Gryffindor table, altering Lavender's usual seat with the unknown spells and Neville's seat as well. Suddenly, his grin spread even further and he rushed up to the head table.

"Harry!" Hermione snapped. "Don't you dare!"

Harry just looked at her innocently. "I'm not doing anything bad—I promise."

"Yeah right." Ginny snorted. "Snape will have your head."

Harry cocked his head to the side. "You're right. Unless he doesn't know it was me." He quickly ran along the head table, charming all the places and returned to the Slytherin table to charm the spots he'd hadn't already charmed. He continued with the Ravenclaw table, the Hufflepuff table and the Gryffindor table. As an afterthought, he went back to the head table and placed an extra charm on Professor McGonagall's seat as well as the Headmasters.

"That should do it. Okay, now it will be suspicious if you don't fall for it." Harry explained, grinning at the two girls.

"Fall for what, exactly?" Hermione asked, following Harry out of the kitchen.

"You'll see. I promise, it's nothing too over the top." Harry said evasively. "It should make for a good show though."

"If you say so."

Harry could tell that Hermione and Ginny were both nervous by the time they went into the Great Hall. The tables were filling up quickly, and they shot Harry a look before sitting in their usual seats. McGonagall was already seated, chatting lightly with Professor Sprout. Professor Devereux was unexpectedly at the head table as well. He looked scandalized sitting next to Hagrid—who was oblivious of the twitchy man's discomfort as he heartily laughed over some tale he was telling.

"That should be interesting." Harry muttered, smirking a bit as Snape swept in. A few minutes later, the food appeared and everyone started eating happily. Harry smiled as he filled his plate, taking a slow bite. He was still full from his foray into the kitchens, but put on the appearance of eating. Neville was chatting happily with Ginny, clearly oblivious that she wasn't really paying attention. Draco and Luna were eating in silence, and Harry grinned as Snape suddenly stopped his conversation with McGonagall as both his and her plate's started shuddering.

McGonagall's sprouted legs first, and by this time most of the hall had turned their attention to the head table. Harry met Snape's glare evenly, though on the inside he was crooning in victory.

When both the plates had finished sprouting their legs, they scuttled around each other. One of them suddenly straightened up, singing loudly in a screeching voice. "Anything you can do, I can do better!"

The other one chimed up in a ridiculously low voice. "I can do anything better than you!"

"No you can't!"

"Yes I can!"

They fell silent for a minute, seeming to size one another up. Murmurs broke out in the hall.

"So far, I'm not really impressed." Ginny muttered in Harry's ear.

"Just wait for it." Harry whispered back. As if on cue, all the dining ware in the Great Hall started shaking, legs sprouting out. The murmuring grew louder as the different wares aligned themselves into battle formations. There was complete calm for a few seconds as the entire hall seemed to hold in a breath.

"CHARGE!" All the dishes yelled, and a full scale battle broke out. Food went flying, and students shrieked as they were caught in the crossfire.

One brave first year stood up at the Gryffindor table, scooping up a bowl of pudding and a serving spoon. "FOODFIGHT!" He flung a heaping spoonful of the chocolate dessert at one of his fellow first years at the Hufflepuff table. The little girl's screams quickly turned into laughter as she picked up a handful of mashed potatoes and lobbed it back at the boy.

Harry grinned as he saw smiles break all over the hall. The next second, food started flying in earnest. He caught Snape's eye. The headmaster just sat back in his seat, waving his wand over his own dinner ware and setting them back to normal. McGonagall looked torn between trying to stop the pandemonium and just letting the kids run wild. Devereux looked completely enraged as he tried to leave the hall—most students _accidently_ caught him in the crossfire on his way to the door. He was twitching worse than ever as he finally got clear of the flying food.

Hagrid was laughing heartily again, not so subtly supplying a third year Slytherin boy with some extra spaghetti.

"Oh, Harry!" Ginny sing-songed, and Harry turned just in time to get a pie to the face. He was still for a second as the pie slid down to the front of his robes. Ginny shrieked with laughter when Harry suddenly caught her up in a hug, transferring most of the berry filling onto her.

Hermione took the opportunity to come up behind him and dribble some gelatin over his head. He yelped as the cold glop slid inside his robes and quickly snatched up a handful of spinach dip to rub in her hair. The three of them collapsed into a fit of laughter as Neville sloshed a bowl of gravy over an unsuspecting group of Hufflepuffs before diving under the table to avoid an incoming barrage of sticky buns from the Slytherin table.

Harry sighed contentedly, ignoring the few globs of food that managed to hit him. McGonagall had an evil looking smirk, and was furtively charming peas to roll down the collar of Flitwicks robes. Flitwick himself had his wand out and was charming the food to waltz across the head table. Professor Sprout had spaghetti in her fly-away hair, and Snape—Harry had to do a double take. Snape was completely clean, but there was a dark gleam in his eye and Harry barely caught the motion of the man's arm—he was willing to bet that he had his wand out under the table. Harry carefully followed the headmaster's gaze, smirking as he noticed a whole regiment of dishes lining up along the walls on either side of the hall. The dishes had morphed into catapults, and were loaded with food. A split second later they let their ammo fly.

No one was spared from the newest assault—except for the Headmaster. Harry saw McGonagall's eyes narrow at the man, who simply raised an eyebrow.

"That was slick." Hermione giggled, following Harry's gaze.

"It was." Harry admitted, smiling widely as McGonagall whispered something to Sprout. The Deputy Headmistress exchanged a quick look with Flitwick as well, and suddenly all three turned on the Headmaster.

"He's quite brilliant." Harry commented as Snape easily held off the onslaught of food that the other professors were lobbing at him. They didn't manage to get so much as a speck on the spotless man. Harry suddenly grinned, snatching a pie off the table that had just appeared. He took a second to silently thank the house-elves that were so dutifully replenishing the food supply. He levitated the cherry pie out of the pan, and high into the air. Several students stopped to watch as the pie slowly floated towards the head table.

Harry grinned when he had it in place, catching Snape's eye before letting it drop on the man's head.

"I have to give it to Snape—who else could pull off such a successful glare and still look intimidating while covered in cherries?" Ginny giggled as Harry ducked out of sight of the Headmaster's murderous look.

"On a scale of one to ten—how furious do you think he is?" Harry asked, chancing a glance over the table to see the Headmaster striding purposefully towards him.

"Oh. That's definitely a ten." Ginny muttered. She quickly slithered away from the table, leaping headfirst into a battle with Dean and Lavender.

"Er… Good luck, Harry." Hermione whispered, as she too abandoned him.

"Traitors!" Harry called, standing up and turning to face Snape.

"Mr. Potter."

"Headmaster." There was a prolonged silence, and Harry fought hard to keep his face straight and hold the Headmaster's gaze. He could feel his lips quirking despite his best efforts and couldn't stop the bark of laughter. "You look good with cherries on top."

Snape's eyes darkened, and he smirked as he leaned closer to Harry. "Would you like a taste, Mr. Potter?"

Harry felt his breath catch in his throat, and the blood rushed to his face—and in another direction. He only managed to sputter for a few seconds before another pie came crashing down on his head.

Harry smiled as the chocolate mousse slowly oozed down his face. "Touché, Sir."

Snape's smirk grew, and Harry laughed lightly when he felt something nudging at his hand. He deftly scooped a handful of it, smearing the whipped cream down the Headmaster's face. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw McGonagall laughing as she levitated another pie towards him. Harry caught the pie and launched it just as Snape suddenly lurched forward and shoved a handful of ice cream down the front of his robes.

Harry yelped. "Cold!" But even as he plunged his hand into his robes to try and grab the frozen dessert another handful smeared across his neck and down the back of his robes. "Gah!"

He managed to dodge the next handful of ice cream, laughing loudly when he slid on a patch of pudding and landed in a rather messy heap on the ground. He smiled as Snape stalked over to him, a bowl in hand. He could only 'eep' when the bowl was upended over his head. More pudding.

"I concede defeat." Harry held up his hands, climbing to his feet and bowing. "You Sir, are a Master."

Snape was smiling—just barely. Harry felt his grin widen at the sight. The slight smile was gone in an instant, replaced by a stony expression as the Headmaster swept back up to the head table. Harry sighed, taking a seat as Snape fired three loud bangs with his wand. The hall went silent, and all motion stopped.

"This foolishness has gone on for long enough." A wave of his wand vanished the remaining food from the tables. It was deathly quiet as Snape paused and looked around the hall. "Should a situation like this occur again, do not expect leniency from me. For now, you are all dismissed. Return to your dorms and get cleaned up."

Harry smiled as Ginny and Hermione staggered up to him. They were completely covered in everything from lemon meringue pie to fettuccini.

"That was bril." Hermione gasped. "We all needed that."

"Yes. Harry, was it my imagination or did Snape actually smile?" Ginny asked quietly, looping her arm through Harry's and heading for the stairs.

"It wasn't your imagination." Harry answered.

"Mr. Potter." Harry turned to McGonagall. Despite her thin-pressed lips and raised eyebrows, Harry could still see the amusement that made her eyes shine. "The Headmaster requires a word. So if you would please remain behind…"

"Alright." Harry squeezed Ginny's arm. "I'll see you guys later."

"Bye." Hermione patted him on the back, giggling when the motion caused a squelching noise. Harry slowly weaved his way towards the head table, snickering when he caught sight of Luna and Draco. They were both covered from head to toe—and they were both laughing. They waved to him as they slipped out of the hall.

Finally, Harry was standing in front of the head table. Most of the teachers were still there—there wasn't a single one that wasn't covered in some sort of food.

"That was some marvelous charms work, Mr. Potter." Flitwick squeaked, grinning broadly.

"Thank you, sir." Harry turned his gaze to Snape, who had his arms crossed tightly. "I'm in trouble, aren't I?"

"Most definitely." Snape smirked. With a flick of his wand, a large bucket of water and a sponge appeared. "You can consider your punishment over when this hall is clean."

Harry nodded, smiling softly. "That's fair."

The teachers slowly filed out, most of them were still laughing. McGonagall smiled at him before shooing a few lingering students out of the hall. Then it was just Harry and Snape.

"Should you pull something like this again, the consequences with be severe."

"I understand, Sir." Harry picked up the sponge and levitated the bucket to one side of the hall. He gave the Headmaster one last smile before setting to work cleaning up the mess.


	9. Chapter Nine

Warning: Slightly erotic scene in this chapter

Chapter Nine

Harry had been scrubbing the floors for nearly an hour. He had already changed the water out six times and was making very slow progress.

"Hiya, Harry."

Harry smiled at Dennis Creevey. The boy had grown a lot since he'd last seen him—no longer was he the scrawny little first year that had fallen into the lake. Harry was pleased to see the smile on his face. It was no secret that Dennis had not handled his brother's death well at all.

"Hey Dennis." Harry stood and stretched.

"Need any help?" Dennis looked around the hall, scrunching his nose at the mess. "It's a lot for one person."

Harry smiled. "I think I can handle it. But thanks for the offer. You're more than welcome to keep me company, though."

Dennis smiled brightly at this. "I don't mind helping. Really! I had a lot of fun tonight. I haven't had so much fun since—"

Harry didn't have to ask 'since when.' "Well, if you really want to I'm not going to say no. Just remember you don't have to keep cleaning if you get tired or sick of it."

Dennis nodded, enthusiastically grabbing up the new sponge that Harry conjured. He set to scrubbing the floor next to Harry.

"Colin would have loved this." Dennis said suddenly, dunking his sponge in the water. "He would have totally been into the food fight."

"Yes. And he probably would have put us to shame—he would have creamed anyone that he was up against."

Dennis nodded, his smile slipping. "I wish he was here."

Harry set his sponge aside, turning to face the trembling boy. He swallowed thickly, but could think of nothing to say. Instead, he got to his feet and pulled Dennis up with him. He waved his wand at the nearest table, smiling when a small assortment of pies appeared. He snatched two up, handing one to Dennis.

"What are we doing?"

"For Colin." Harry lifted the pie in a toast, and suddenly flung it as hard as he could at the nearest wall. It splattered explosively. Dennis' eyes were wide.

"Won't you get into more trouble!?"

Harry shook his head. "We haven't cleaned that part yet—I don't think it will matter."

Dennis was silent for a few seconds, his head bowed as he stared at the pie in his hands. When he looked up, his eyes were brimming with tears. "For Colin." His voice was broken, and he swallowed thickly before he hurled the pie across the hall. It landed with a satisfying 'SPLAT' on the head table.

Harry caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and spotted Snape lingering nearly out of sight on the stairs. Harry turned back to Dennis, scooping up another pie and offering it to the boy. Dennis wordlessly took it and chucked it, watching it sail through the air and smash into the wall.

Harry snatched up another pie. "And this one's for Fred."

He threw it Frisbee style, and Dennis cheered when it collided with a chair—which toppled over in an explosion of chocolate and whipped cream.

Dennis grabbed the last pie, grinning at Harry. "And another one for Colin."

Harry knew he probably should have seen it coming—but he was unprepared for a face full of pie. He stood there in shock for a few seconds before shaking his head and sending the lemon filling flying all over the place. He smiled, and put a hand on Dennis' shoulder and squeezed lightly. "It's okay to miss them. I know they miss us. But I also know that they want us to be happy. I know that somewhere, Colin was watching you today. He was cheering you on—and he's watching right now, smiling and saying 'way to go, Dennis!'"

Dennis sniffed, launching himself at Harry and wrapping his arms tightly around his waist. Harry hugged back tightly as the boy sobbed bitterly.

Harry waited patiently as the sobs slowly died down, rubbing soothing circles over Dennis' back when he finally broke away. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize." Harry firmly guided him down on the nearest bench. "You loved your brother very much—it's okay to hurt and it's okay to cry."

"Will it ever stop hurting?"

"Not completely. But it will get better. I know right now it probably feels like getting stabbed in the chest over and over again—but before long it will start to hurt less and less." Harry knelt down in front of the boy. "And just like it's okay to cry, it's okay to laugh too. Colin would want you to laugh—want you to smile."

Dennis sniffed again, wiping at his face with his sleeve. Harry gave his shoulder another squeeze before returning to his bucket and sponge. After a few minutes, Dennis joined him again.

"Colin would have loved making this mess. But he would have never left a friend to clean it up alone."

Harry smiled, and didn't say anything further. Instead, they cleaned in silence—pushing determinedly onward until it was nearly curfew. Only then was Harry able to convince Dennis to go. When he was alone, Harry sighed—the Great Hall was still only half clean.

"Mr. Potter."

Harry tensed only for a second at the unexpected voice of the Headmaster.

"Yes, Sir?"

"You do realize that I only specified that the Great Hall had to be cleaned when I assigned this detention."

Harry stopped scrubbing the floor, glancing up at the older man. "Are you saying that by your own parameters I am allowed to use magic to finish this?"

"Perhaps." Snape said calmly.

Harry hesitated only for a second before pulling out his wand. A few muttered spells later and the Great Hall was once again spotless.

"That is acceptable, Mr. Potter."

Harry smiled, groaning slightly as he pushed himself to his feet. He banished the bucket and sponge and stretched languidly. His back popped several times and he sighed in relief. "Thank you, Sir."

"Don't get used to it. This was a singular lapse in judgment on my part—I assure you it will not happen again." Snape's dark eyes just barely hinted at his underlying amusement as the rest of his face remained completely impassive.

Harry grinned cheekily. "You say that now…"

"Is that a challenge, Mr. Potter?"

"No. Just an observation." Harry smirked, keeping pace with Snape as they left the Great Hall. He playfully nudged him with his elbow. "So, what would it take to get you to admit that you had just as much fun as the rest of us tonight?"

"Impertinent brat."

"That's all it would take? What a coincidence, I just happen to know of one that's close by!" Harry snickered, pausing as the Headmaster turned down a separate hallway to go to his office. "I'm glad you enjoyed yourself."

Snape stopped and turned around, raising an eyebrow. "I will never admit it."

Harry smiled warmly. "I know. Have a good night, Sir."

"Good night, Mr. Potter."

Harry couldn't stop grinning like an idiot the whole way back up to his dorm. The grin was still plastered on his face when he climbed through the portrait hole.

"You look happy for someone who just got out of detention." Hermione remarked smartly, looking up from the book on her lap. Neville was sprawled out on the couch, and Dean was in one of the armchairs.

Harry shrugged. "It wasn't bad. I just had to clean up the mess."

Neville raised an eyebrow. "Not bad? Were we in the same food fight?"

Harry laughed. "About halfway through, Professor Snape reminded me that he only specified that the Great Hall had to be clean to fulfill my punishment."

"Wait—He let you off halfway through?" Neville snorted. "Only you could actually manage to get on Snape's non-existent good side."

Harry shrugged. "I'm not sure if that's it. I'm going to go take a shower. I feel absolutely disgusting."

"You look pretty disgusting." Hermione snorted.

"Yeah. Thanks for that." Harry rolled his eyes, leaving the sitting room. He fished a pair of sleep pants out of his trunk and immediately made for the bathroom. He sighed in relief when he stripped his clothes off and grimaced as a few stray chunks of food splatted on the floor. He vanished them and tossed his clothes in the hamper.

The hot water was sweet torture on his skin as the stickiness and grime were washed away. Harry smiled as he replayed dinner in his mind—the slow anticipation over the charmed dinner plates that built up into an all-out free-for-all. Everyone had been smiling and laughing—for those few moments it was almost as if the war had never happened.

Then there was Snape—Harry shifted uncomfortably as he remembered the brief flash of arousal that had overcome him when he was squared off against the Headmaster. A shudder crept down his spine as he remembered how the low, sultry voice had washed over him. 'Would you like a taste, Mr. Potter?' The words had left him half-hard.

Harry frowned, sighing heavily as he turned off the water and started toweling off. That had been—enlightening. Could it be that he fancied Snape, of all people? Or was it just his body's reaction to a suggestive comment from an attractive man—who he just happened to be more than a little obsessed with?

Harry flushed—very glad that no one was around to see it or question it. He couldn't fancy Snape. It would be just _wrong_. Snape was straight—had been in love with his motherfor years. Not to mention the fact that Snape was twenty years older than him, completely loathed his father and was the bloody _Headmaster_ while Harry was a student. Harry quickly pulled on his pajamas, cursing under his breath. Even if the other issues could be worked out—Snape was still Snape. And Snape most certainly didn't find Harry attractive. In fact he thought he was provocative—and not in a good way.

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose as he left the bathroom. Dean cast him a curious look from his bed, but Harry ignored him and quickly hid himself behind the curtains of his own bed. He cast the usual silencing charm on his bed—a habit from years of waking up his dorm mates in the violent throes of nightmares—and stashed his wand under his pillow.

'Maybe it's not Snape—maybe I'm just a little wound up?' Harry questioned silently. After all, it wasn't like he'd ever found an outlet for his sexual frustrations. Granted, even if he hadn't been too busy fighting for his life, there wasn't really anyone he could think of that he would really have been willing to mess around with. He'd had crushes, yes. But they were all rather abstract. Remus—Harry had been thirteen and vulnerable because of the dementors. That was also when puberty reared its ugly head, plaguing him with wet-dreams and unwelcome erections. Now, the man was one of his closest friends, a mentor and a father figure. Oliver and Charlie were both quidditch players—and had the body to prove it. But Harry had never had much of a relationship with Oliver outside of practice. And Charlie? Charlie was his best mate's older brother—almost like an older brother to Harry.

So, Harry could admit that he had never really had many prospects. And now that he was free from the responsibility of the war, he still had no real clue how to proceed with his hitherto nonexistent love life. So maybe it wasn't that unexpected that he'd react to Snape in _that_ way.

Harry allowed himself to relax a little. Maybe he would have to start dating—he cringed a little at the thought. There wasn't really anyone he wanted to date at the moment. Hell—there wasn't even anyone who had caught his eye.

'Except Snape.' Harry decided to ignore that as a fluke. It wasn't even like he really knew his own preferences—aside from the fact that he liked _men_. But what specifically did he like?

He wanted a man that was passionate—someone who threw himself into what he loved. That was what had caught his attention about Charlie. Listening to the redhead talk about his work in Romania, the way his whole demeanor had shifted, his eyes had shone and Harry had almost wanted to rush off to Romania right then and there just to see for himself because the enthusiasm and near-delirious smile on Charlie's face was contagious. Oliver had been that way too—though he was a little over the top with his quidditch obsession. Towards the end, Harry had been put off by the older boy's mania.

He liked intelligence—having tea with Remus after his Patronus lessons had certainly done nothing to abate his crush on the Professor. Remus always had a lot to say on whatever subject they talked about, and Harry had listened intently—for the most part too enamored by the exchange and the subtle intensity that glowed just beneath the surface of Remus' calm manner to really contribute much to the conversation.

Harry groaned quietly and rolled over to bury his face in his pillow when his psyche decided to remind him that Snape was most definitely passionate and intelligent.

'But he's also a sarcastic, abrasive, detached, egotistical git.' Harry forcefully reminded himself, turning his head aside from his pillow so he could take a proper breath. But Harry couldn't really fault Snape for being detached—the man had been a spy for twenty years. And was it really ego? Or just confidence? Harry liked confidence—he didn't want some nervous, bumbling idiot who needed constant reassurance. He wanted someone who was sure of himself, and comfortable in his own skin.

"Snape definitely fits the bill on that." Harry ran a hand through his hair and sighed loudly. He was supposed to be convincing himself that he _didn't_ fancy Snape—not thinking of more reasons to be attracted to the infuriating man.

"He's still sarcastic and abrasive—and a total git." Harry muttered, punching his pillow and sitting up. But the sarcasm was—dare he say—charming. It hinted at a rather dark, morbid sense of humor—one that Harry could fully appreciate. And as for abrasive? Harry smiled bitterly. Of course Snape rubbed him the wrong way—he was sarcastic and insulting. Using that deceptively smooth voice that was tantalizingly poisonous—deep and demanding and completely exhilarating even when it was shooting barbs.

Harry suppressed a shudder, glaring down at his half-hard cock. Yes. Snape's voice was arousing. 'Would you like a taste, Mr. Potter?' Harry bit his lip as he felt another stab of desire. He hesitated, snatching his wand from under his pillow and casting a few extra silencing spells—and a privacy ward that would keep the curtains firmly shut. He breathed out shakily, running a trembling hand down his bare chest—his breath hitched when his thumb brushed over a nipple. He allowed his hand to linger, slowly circling his thumb around his nipple. He closed his eyes and bit hard on his lip as he experimentally pinched it, a moan grinding out of the back of his throat.

'Would you like a taste, Mr. Potter?' Harry groaned again, licking his lips. "Yes sir. I would love to taste."

In his head, Snape was smirking down at him. The smirk only widened when Harry took a step closer to the older man. They were chest to chest, and Snape leaned down further to whisper in his ear—the words from Harry's first ever potions lesson that had been so intriguing and full of unrealized promises. Harry had never forgotten them. He could see clearly the fire burning in the man's eyes and hear the voice that was deathly quiet, promising unending pleasure—or spine-tingling pain—if Harry only knew how to ask for it.

"I have no patience for foolish wand waving." Snape's breath ghosted over his ear. Harry bit his lip again, hard enough to bruise. One hand pinched his nipple brutally, and the other slid below the waistline of his pants. He cried out as his fingers wrapped firmly around his swollen member.

"I don't expect you to understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses…" Harry gasped as he slowly started moving his hand down his length, imagining dark eyes blazing. "I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death—"

Harry arched off the bed as his orgasm came hard and fast. His heart was hammering, and Harry cursed violently under his breath. He had just got off fantasizing about the man's voice. He snatched up his wand, cleaning the mess in his pants. Sighing, he willed his breathing to even out and his heart to stop racing.

This was bad—he'd just masturbated to the thought of Severus Snape. Harry grimaced. How the hell was he supposed to look at the Headmaster the next day? Or ever again, for that matter? Once he was sure he was calm, he slowly climbed out of bed. The curtains on Dean's bed were closed, and Harry could barely make out Neville's prone form splayed out in the darkness. Harry snatched a shirt out of his trunk and threw it on before retreating to the sitting room.

He was relieved that Hermione wasn't out there—he knew she would sense his mood the second she laid eyes on him. Harry slumped heavily on the couch, closing his eyes and leaning his head back.

He definitely fancied Snape—a lot. But why Snape, of all people? Could Harry have found anyone more—_impossible_?

What would happen if Snape found out? He'd be disgusted—even more disgusted than he was over those stupid photos. Harry cringed. This was bad. Just when he'd managed to form some sort of bond with the man—granted it was a rather vague bond at best.

"I just have to ignore it." Harry told himself firmly. "If I ignore it, it will go away." He highly doubted that, but it was at least something he could do. It was that, or avoid Snape like the plague until he got his fixation under control. Or both.

Harry sighed again, laying out on the couch. He closed his eyes, eyebrows furrowing. He didn't want to avoid Snape—he liked their interactions now. Well, most of their interactions. He hadn't liked the man's reaction to the photos. But that was Snape—he would make his disapproval known. Harry shuddered at what he imagined the Headmaster's reaction would be if he ever found out that Harry had jerked off to thoughts of him.

Harry shook his head. He needed to stop thinking about it—he was going to ignore it. Snape would never find out, because Harry would never tell anyone, or even acknowledge his infatuation. Outside of his own head, it wasn't going to exist.

The next morning, Harry was having a hard time not thinking about Snape. Of course, it didn't help that the Headmaster was sitting at the head table and smirking into his coffee. Harry couldn't even imagine what would cause the man to smirk like that so early in the morning—but his imagination was certainly supplying him with rather vivid suggestions. Harry could do little more than stare grumpily into his oatmeal.

"What's wrong?" Ginny asked, taking the seat to his right. Hermione sat on his other side, and Harry fidgeted uncomfortably when both girls continued to stare at him.

"Nothing. Eat some pancakes." Harry muttered, throwing his spoon down in his oatmeal.

"Harry? What happened? You didn't go sneaking out again, did you?"

"No! Of course not." Harry snapped, glaring at Hermione. "Where would you get that idea?"

"Well. Something had to happen between last night and this morning—you were smiling like a loon when you got back to the dorms last night."

"I just had a rough night, okay? I don't want to talk about it." Harry couldn't stop the flush that rose on his cheeks. A rough night indeed.

Ginny continued frowning at him, quirking an eyebrow at his flushed cheeks. She chose not to comment and Harry sighed in relief.

Neville eventually showed up, smiling widely. "Hullo!"

Harry didn't bother replying—his eyes had just traveled up to the head table again, and this time Snape caught him staring. The Headmaster's smirk turned nearly manic, and Harry swallowed hard. He quickly dragged his eyes back down to the table as he blushed.

"Harry?" Ginny muttered quietly, while Neville and Hermione started talking about maybe taking a trip to Hogsmeade.

"What?"

"Did something happen between you and Snape?"

"No." Harry said flatly.

"Oh." She frowned, lowering her voice even more. "Then why is he grinning like the cat that ate the canary?"

Harry shrugged, peaking back at Snape from under his bangs. "He does look pleased with himself, doesn't he?"

Before Ginny could answer, they were joined by Luna and Draco.

"I have a question about our contest." Draco announced, sitting down next to Neville.

"Okay." Hermione raised an eyebrow as the blonde started loading his plate. Luna sat down next to him, stealing a piece of his bacon.

"Does Potter's prank last night count as one big prank, or are we documenting number of people pranked?"

There was silence at this. Harry straightened up, tearing his gaze away from where it had drifted back to the head table. "That is a good question—and it makes a big difference, doesn't it?"

"Yes it does." Draco sniffed. "Depending on our answer, you either have a score of one or a score of over 400."

Harry grinned. "Well—how bout this. We count it by number of people—but since that wasn't established yesterday we don't count last night. Is that fair?"

"Not to you." Hermione pointed out.

Harry shrugged. "It wasn't like it was some well thought out scheme—it was spur of the moment."

"That sounds good to me." Luna smiled. "Though, it was a lovely prank Harry."

Harry smiled. "Glad you approve."

Conversation came to a halt as the mail rushed in. Harry just groaned at the usual gaggle of letters. He sorted out only three worth keeping. One from Ron, one from Mrs. Weasley, and a short note from Remus. He read Remus' note first—an invite to spend the day with him and Teddy. Harry quickly scratched a reply and sent it with the still-waiting owl.

"Remus?" Hermione asked casually from behind the Daily Prophet.

"Yes." Harry smiled. "I'm going to meet up with him after breakfast—we're taking Teddy to Hogsmeade." Harry opened Ron's letter next—but before he could read it several things happened at once.

Hermione shrieked—her newspaper had just sprayed her with green goo that seemed to sink into her skin. Neville was trying to pry off a flowery, pink hat that seemed to be sucking on his head. Draco's hair was orange—again. Luna was calmly petting a new mustache and Ginny was sporting snakes instead of hair. They were all clutching separate pieces of mail. Harry looked down at his own, noting that Ron's handwriting had morphed into a different—yet familiar—spidery scrawl.

_Remember to think of all angles. Oftentimes, things are not as they appear. I believe you are one point in the negative, Mr. Potter._

Harry blinked around at his friends. Everyone in the Great Hall was laughing.

"Am I nuts, or did Snape actually prank us?" Neville whispered. He showed his own letter that had a nearly identical message to Harry's. "I thought it was from Gran."

Hermione's copy of the Daily Prophet had also given way to a short note from the Headmaster, as did Ginny's letter from George, Draco's letter from his mother and Luna's copy of the Quibbler.

"So what was I hit with?" Harry asked nervously. He didn't feel any different.

"Your hair is the rainbow colored." Ginny giggled.

"Oh. Well that's a relief." Harry pulled down a lock of said hair—definitely rainbow colored. He glanced up at the head table. Snape's face was schooled into a carefully blank expression—but Harry recalled the smirk from earlier and couldn't help but grin. He nodded his head at the Headmaster, raising his coffee cup in a silent toast. Snape's lips quirked slightly, and he resumed talking to Professor McGonagall.

"We got played." Ginny giggled. "That explains the evil gleam yesterday, Neville."

"I suppose it does—but how the hell can I get rid of this thing!?" Neville whined, pulling fruitlessly on the hat that was starting to make sucking noises.

"Knowing Snape, it won't be easy." Hermione muttered, standing up. All her visible skin had turned green. "I'm off to the library I think."

"Let us know what you find out." Harry called after her, turning his cautious gaze back to his one remaining letter. He promptly laid it out and started casting diagnostic spells on it. He snorted when he found an enchantment, raising an eyebrow at Draco.

"A _tail_!? Really?"

Draco shrugged. "Would have worked, if you had opened mine first."

Harry refused to agree, though he knew it was true. Instead, he downed the rest of his coffee and stood up. "Well, I'm off to see Remus. I'll catch you guys later." Neville muttered goodbye, and Ginny impatiently smacked the head of a snake that was trying to steal the bacon she was trying to eat. Harry chuckled and made his way out of the Hall.

"Nice hair, Harry." Someone yelled.

"I know! Isn't it fabulous?" Harry spun around, flicking it over his shoulder dramatically. Dennis was grinning at him, and Harry smiled. "I was thinking about getting some matching shoes—what do you think?"

Dennis just laughed, shaking his head.

Harry smiled at the Headmaster again, slipping out of the hall and heading to Remus' quarters. The werewolf looked absolutely ragged when he opened the door, but smiled widely.

"Did you do something different with your hair?"

Harry laughed, shaking his head. He followed Remus to the sitting room, explaining about the contest and how Snape had overheard their plans.

"The Headmaster pranked you?"

"Yeah." Harry grinned. "But I kicked the whole thing off—charmed all the dishes in the Great Hall to start a food fight last night. It was epic. Even the teachers got into it. But Snape completely kicked my ass—the man is a food fight king."

Remus laughed. "I'm sorry I missed it." Harry frowned, but Remus just shook his head. "Don't worry about it. Tell me about these pictures that are the talk of the school."

Harry felt the blood rushing to his cheeks and groaned, burying his face in his hands. "I'm never letting the girls talk me into a 'girls night' ever again."

"Girls night, huh?" Remus smirked. "You know, I suspected for a while that you were just one of the girls."

Harry sputtered. "What!?"

"It's fine. It doesn't bother me at all." Remus grasped his shoulder. "It's not going to change the fact that I care about you."

"Thanks, Remus." Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"So. Any young men that have caught your eye?"

"No!"

Remus' grin quickly turned into a smirk. "Any old men?"

"Remus!"


	10. Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

The contest did wonders for Harry's nerves—he hardly even batted an eyelash whenever one of the dreaded photographs made an unexpected appearance. Nor was he too worried about the upcoming special edition of Witch Weekly that would showcase him as one of the 'Top Ten Bachelors' of the year. Better yet was the fact that he had been far too busy to dwell on his crush—at least while he was awake. Snape had become a primary fixture in a lot of his dreams. He was, however, very worried about the upcoming Awards Ceremony—but he refused to dwell on it too much.

Harry had managed to undo the rainbow charm on his hair after a week—but within three days he was sporting long, flowing green locks instead—complete with silver sparkles. It was Draco's doing—but Harry couldn't figure out how the blonde had managed it. However, it only took Harry three hours to figure out how to remove Draco's charm.

Harry had gotten Hermione easily enough—he'd bewitched her book bag to belch loudly every time she opened it. The first time it happened in class McGonagall had looked completely flabbergasted at the red-faced girl. Harry had managed to hex her homework when she'd left it at a table in the library. When she tried to continue writing on it, it screamed and ran from her. He didn't feel too bad about that—she'd only written a few inches. But he hadn't pranked her again after that.

Harry only had to sweet talk Greengrass to get back at Draco—she'd agreed to switch out Draco's hairbrush for a replica. One morning the blonde had come into the hall with red and gold streaks in his hair.

Ginny had been a tough one. Harry had finally managed to get one over on her when he got a hold of her copy of Witch Weekly—before it was delivered. It had taken quite a bit to bribe the owl. He hadn't enchanted the whole thing—just a single picture in the magazine. The minute her thumb had brushed against the picture in question she had been struck mute for three hours.

The end of September was marked by the first Hogsmeade weekend of the term. Harry was looking forward to it—despite the fact that he _could_ go to Hogsmeade on any weekend, he hadn't except the once with Remus. It just didn't seem as fun if Ginny and Luna couldn't come. They had plans to meet Ron, George and Percy at the Hogs Head. On top of that, the weekend was a truce weekend. So there was no worrying about pranks.

Harry had been woken far too early by Ginny bursting into the room, shoving a set of clothes into his hand and ushering him into the shower. He had barely dressed in the tight black t-shirt and snug jeans before she had pounced on him. She had already managed to loop a studded belt through his belt loops—the belt buckle was a little flashy for his tastes. The ornate silver just seemed to draw attention right to his crotch.

Ginny chuckled when he pointed that out. "That's kind of the point."

He had allowed her to brush out his hair for him—grimacing at the acrid smelling hairspray she doused his hair with. He growled when he saw her pull out the make-up bag.

"No!" Harry crossed his arms, glaring at her. "Absolutely not!"

"But Harry!"

"No. I am not going to let you doll me up."

"Please!"

"No."

"But…" Ginny pouted. Harry pointedly looked away.

"I'll let you get out of etiquette lessons with Draco."

"No. And I am not doing those, either."

Ginny went silent for a minute. "You know, there really wouldn't be a better way to prove that you really are over your embarrassment over those photos."

Harry groaned, running a hand through his hair—scowling when Ginny smacked his hand. "I don't have to prove anything to anybody."

"Exactly! That's the spirit! You show them Harry!"

"I'm still not doing it."

"Don't you want to look nice? You really ought to step up your game if you're going to find yourself a boyfriend any time soon."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I don't want a boyfriend—a partner at some point would be nice. But I hardly doubt a little make up is going to make the difference in snagging Mr. Right."

Ginny sighed. "You look good right now—but with a little extra you'll drop jaws, turn heads and leave people breathless."

Harry shifted from one foot to the other. "Why? What's the point?"

Ginny shrugged. "I like to dress up sometimes—it just feels good to know I can turn heads. Granted, you can turn heads no matter what you're wearing. But at least this way the reactions will be for something other than your fame."

Harry slumped his shoulders. "Go ahead."

"Excellent!" Ginny grinned, pulling out some eye shadow. Harry watched carefully as she picked out a dark purple. "It'll really bring out the color of your eyes."

Harry didn't reply as she applied just a touch to the corners of his eyes. She followed up with a slightly lighter shade of purple that trailed in a thin line along his upper lashes. She used some eyeliner along his lower lashes and some volumizing mascara. Harry blinked rapidly to try and adjust to the added weight to his eye lashes.

Ginny lightly traced his cheek bones with a dash of blush, and added some shimmering lip gloss that smelled faintly of strawberries. She dabbed a bit of perfume behind each ear and patted his cheek. "You look fabulous."

Harry smiled. "I'm sure I do—I can't deny the fact that you know what you're doing when it comes to this sort of thing."

Ginny grinned widely. "So. Anyone in particular you'd like to take notice?"

Harry flushed a bit, but shook his head.

"You're lying." Ginny smirked. "But that's okay. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"Thanks for that. I'm not sure if I'm ready to deal with all that just yet."

"I understand." Ginny grabbed his arm and lead him out through the still darkened dorm room. Hermione was already in the sitting room.

"We're ready to go!" Ginny grinned, pulling Hermione up from the couch.

"Damn, Harry. You look like sex." Hermione giggled.

Harry rolled his eyes, but couldn't stop the blush from rising on his face. "Are we going or not?"

"We are. Neville's already downstairs. I told him we'd meet him for breakfast." Hermione smirked. "Luna and Draco are going to head into Hogsmeade on their own and meet up with us at the Hogs Head later."

"Those two sure hit it off really well." Ginny snickered.

"And who saw it coming?" Harry asked pointedly as they stepped out of the portrait hole.

"Don't gloat." Ginny chided playfully. "We agreed with you when you made that observation."

There weren't very many students up and about yet—most had decided to sleep in regardless of the impending trip to Hogsmeade. Harry was slightly grateful for that—there weren't many people at breakfast yet.

"Bloody hell, Harry." Neville muttered when Harry sat down. "If I was gay, or you were a girl I'd be swooning right now."

Harry smiled warmly. "Thanks Nev." Maybe Ginny had a point about dressing up. He'd have to buy himself some make up—for special occasions at least.

"George is getting ready to reopen Weasleys Wizard Wheezes." Ginny said casually. "Percy is going to help him with the business end of it—the grand reopening is going to be at the end of November. I think they're going to be opening a Hogsmeade branch as well."

"That's bril." Harry smiled. "I can't wait."

Hermione giggled. "I bet Snape will be thrilled."

There was laughter at that. Harry shook his head, looking up at the head table. Snape wasn't there—but it was a little later than their usual breakfast time so it wasn't that unexpected. It didn't take long for the four of them to finish eating and set off.

McGonagall was stationed at the gate, checking names off as students slowly filtered down to the village. She smiled at them as they walked past.

"Do try to behave today."

"Of course, Professor." Harry smiled easily. "Whatever would make you think we wouldn't?"

McGonagall just rolled her eyes and ushered them down the path as a group of third years came up behind them.

"I need to buy some ink and parchment, and I need to restock my potions kit." Hermione said as the village slowly came into view. There were only a handful of shops open—a handful of buildings were in the process of being rebuilt and a good number of stores were still little more than a pile of rubble.

"I just want some chocolate." Harry frowned pointedly as they by-passed what was left of The Three Broomsticks. "Honeydukes is open now, right?"

"Yeah." Neville smiled. "They reopened last week."

"Fantastic." Harry grinned. The owner of the brand-new New Brew Apothecary was just flipping the sign to 'open' when they passed by. The man smiled slightly at them as they made their way to the door. He had curly, sandy colored hair, and light brown eyes. His robes were dark blue, and besides being a little on the skinny side he was fairly well built. Harry waited outside with Neville while the girls went in.

"I'm really glad I don't have to worry about Potions anymore." Harry sighed heavily, watching Hermione move methodically around the shop through the window.

"I hear you." Neville muttered. "Granted, I wouldn't mind going back and learning some of the basics—it wouldn't hurt to be able to make some of my own remedies if I needed to."

Harry nodded, tensing when he saw Devereux striding purposefully towards the Apothecary. He didn't even glance at Harry and Neville as he rushed into the store.

"That man is whacked." Neville muttered. "I've heard about his classes—makes Snape seem cuddly."

Harry snorted. "Yeah. I had a detention with him—he freaked out on me and started throwing things."

Neville shook his head. "You got to wonder if there will ever be a year where there isn't a teacher that's a complete nut, huh?"

"I don't know—our third year was good. And Trelawney doesn't count." Harry pointed out. "Or Hagrid—they aren't nuts. They just have character."

"True." Neville grinned. "But I guess it wouldn't really be Hogwarts if everything was _normal_." He shuddered for dramatic effect and Harry chuckled.

A loud crash startled them, and they glanced in the window of the shop. Devereux was standing at the counter, twitching horribly while the owner of the Apothecary just gaped at him. Hermione and Ginny were standing in the back of the shop, staring and whispering quietly.

"Reckon we should see what that's about?" Neville asked quietly, flinching when Devereux snarled at the owner and threw a bottle at him. The owner just barely ducked out of the way.

"I don't think it's really our business." Harry muttered. "But it couldn't hurt to be in there for Hermione and Ginny if things get really nasty, yeah?"

"Yeah." Neville agreed, slipping in the door. Devereux glared at them as they walked passed.

"You said you would have some by this week!" Devereux spat at the red-faced man behind the counter.

"I'm sorry, Professor. There was a hold up on the import permits—the ministry has been having some trouble with counterfeit Acromantulas. There's nothing I can do about it. It'll be another two weeks at least."

"I need that venom by tomorrow!" Devereux snarled, clenching his fists. His eye twitched heavily, and he slammed his hand down on the counter.

"I'm sorry! I can't help you."

"Er…" Harry stepped forward uncertainly, just raising an eyebrow at Devereux's glare. "I'm sorry to interrupt, Professor. Did you know that there is a nest of Acromantulas in the Forbidden Forest?"

Devereux bared his teeth. "Yes, you silly little girl. Of course I was aware of that. Do I look like some simpleton that has the time to go traipsing through the underbrush to battle with highly aggressive, overgrown arachnids when there is a business right here that supposedly caters to my needs as a Potions Master?"

Harry exchanged a look with the owner, who simply rolled his eyes. "No, Sir. However, I'm sure if you asked Professor Hagrid nicely he would be able to get the venom for you."

Devereux fell silent for a second—mouth opened and eye twitching. Harry waited patiently as the man seemed to try to think up an argument.

"And what would that—_man—_know about Acromantulas?"

Harry's gaze hardened at the obvious disdain in the man's voice. "Considering Hagrid's raised them, I'd say he would know a bloody lot more than you do. And seeing as how you are obviously too scared to go 'traipsing through the underbrush' yourself, I would suggest you don't insult the one person that can help you get what you need by tomorrow."

Devereux sputtered, reaching out to grab Harry's collar.

Harry smoothly took a step back. "Do not touch me. You have a problem and I have offered a solution. So how 'bout you stop bothering people with this ridiculous little temper tantrum."

There was complete silence in the shop, and Harry raised an eyebrow as the blood rushed to Devereux's face. "How dare you talk down to me!"

"But I do dare." Harry said icily.

Devereux sputtered for a minute before charging out of the shop. Harry watched him go with a raised eyebrow.

"You shouldn't have done that." Hermione muttered quietly.

"He was being a prick." Harry shrugged, turning to the shop owner. "Sorry. I hope I didn't lose you his business."

The owner shrugged, pulling out his wand and vanishing the broken glass from the floor. "He'll be back—I'm the only Apothecary in town and as well stocked as any in Diagon Alley. Besides, I rather enjoyed watching him brought down a peg. What's your name, miss?"

Harry groaned, shooting a glare at Neville when he laughed. "Harry. My name is Harry."

"Oh." The owner blushed, ducking his head a bit. "Er… Sorry 'bout that. I'm Everett Bell.

Harry shook the man's hand. "It's a pleasure. Any relation to Katie Bell?"

"She's my cousin." Everett smiled. "She just got drafted as a reserve chaser for the Holyhead Harpies, actually."

"That's great! She is a superb chaser." Harry leaned on the counter, glancing over to see Hermione and Ginny whispering and giggling as they continued to search the shelves for ingredients. Neville was casually examining what looked to be a jar of intestines.

"Do you play?" Everett asked.

"I used to play seeker. I'm just back at Hogwarts to finish my missed seventh year, so I'm not on the house team anymore." Harry offered, turning his gaze back to the man. He fidgeted a little when he noticed Everett's steady gaze on him.

"You're Harry Potter."

"Yes." Harry shifted uncomfortably, falling silent.

"Katie still raves that you're the best seeker she has ever seen. Ever think about going pro?"

Harry shook his head. "I don't think professional quidditch is for me. I don't fancy spending so much time travelling for matches—and the publicity would be a nightmare. So, how long have you owned the shop?"

"Oh. I'm not the owner—my father is. I just run the place." Everett shrugged. "It's a good gig—I pretty much have free reign. My father owns three shops—another Apothecary in Diagon Alley and a Menagerie in Godric's Hollow. My sister runs the Menagerie and my father runs the other Apothecary. We decided to buy a shop here when we found out that the other Apothecary wasn't going to open again." He glanced around the shop. "You don't need any ingredients?"

Harry shook his head. "I'm not taking NEWT potions."

"Oh." Harry wasn't certain, but Everett looked a little disheartened. "So you won't be a regular customer then?"

Harry shook his head, falling silent as Hermione and Ginny brought their ingredients up to the counter. Neville trailed slowly behind them.

"Did you find everything you need?" Everett asked politely, quickly tallying up the prices.

"Yes. Thank you." Hermione grinned, handing over a handful of Galleons. "So. Off to the bookstore next?"

"Yeah—we don't have a lot of time though. We're supposed to be at the Hogs Head by noon." Ginny said, looping her arm through Neville's and pulling him out of the store.

Harry smiled at Everett as he followed Hermione to the door. "It was nice talking to you."

"You too. Stop by again sometime." Everett grinned. "Next time I'll offer you a cup of tea."

"Sure thing. Catch you later." Harry held the door open for Hermione and flashed one last smile over his shoulder before leaving the Apothecary.

Hermione linked her arm with his as they quickly caught up with Neville and Ginny down the street. "He was cute. You gonna take him up on his offer?"

"For tea?" Harry shrugged. "Maybe."

"Maybe? He's totally into you."

Harry blushed, coughing slightly. "He was just making conversation."

"Did you even see how disappointed he looked when you told him you weren't taking Potions? He was hoping that you'd be around often." Hermione sighed dramatically. "Regardless—what did you think of him?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. He was nice."

"Just nice?" Hermione rolled her eyes. "Really? Are you sure you're actually gay? Because I'm starting to think that you might just be uninterested in general. Are you A-sexual?"

Harry sputtered. "Hey! Just because I don't jump on the first interested party does not mean that I'm A-sexual."

Ginny giggled. "Besides—Harry already has someone in mind he wants to jump."

"Really!? Who?"

Harry coughed again, shaking his head. "It doesn't matter. I'm not a hurry to rush into a relationship. I'll probably go talk to Everett again—have tea with him. If it goes somewhere, that's fine. If not—that's fine too."

Ginny giggled again, and Hermione joined her. Harry caught Neville's eye and they both rolled their eyes.

"I'm going to go hit Honeydukes while you guys are in there oogling the books." Harry said smartly. "I'll meet you at The Hogs Head."

"I'll come with you." Neville said hurriedly. "I'm all set on parchment and quills and stuff like that."

"Fine. But stay out of trouble, you two." Hermione waggled a finger at them. "And bring me a bar of dark chocolate with nougat."

"For you, my sweet? Anything." Harry bowed mockingly. Hermione stuck her tongue out at him as she disappeared around the corner with Ginny.

"Girls." Neville muttered, shaking his head.

"Girls." Harry agreed, walking sedately in the opposite direction. He caught sight of Luna and Draco coming out of the post office—Draco didn't look very happy. The two blondes had gone in the opposite direction before Harry and Neville got close.

"What do you think is up with Malfoy?" Harry asked.

"Probably having trouble shopping for supplies—I imagine some of the shop owners have blacklisted him."

"Oh." Harry frowned. "I don't like that."

Neville shrugged. "What can you do?"

"Make it known that I don't like that." Harry sighed, opening the door to Honeydukes and letting Neville slip in first. "It's not right. The war is supposed to be over—all the trials are over. Draco is serving his punishment. There's no reason for people to try and add their own punishment on top of that."

"I agree." Neville sighed, slipping through the crowd of students to the wall of chocolate. Harry walked up beside him, quickly snatching up a few bars and taking them to the counter. The owner beamed at him, waving him off when he tried to pay.

"It's on the house, dear."

Harry bit his tongue and forced a smile. "Thank you Ma'am." She gave Neville the same treatment. Neville's smile was a little more sincere than Harry's.

Zabini waylaid them when they stepped out of the shop. "Hello Harry. Longbottom." He nodded his head at Neville before fixing his smirk on Harry. "Would you like to go get a drink with me, Harry? I'll buy."

Harry shook his head. "Sorry, Zabini. We've got plans—we're meeting with some friends." He shot Neville a look and they tried to inch around the boy.

"Afterwards, then?" Zabini took a step to the side, cutting off Harry's retreat.

"I'm booked all day, actually." Harry lied easily, scowling when Zabini put a hand on his arm to keep him from walking away.

"Tomorrow then?"

"Can't you take a hint, Zabini? Harry doesn't want to have a drink with you." Neville snapped, pushing past Zabini roughly. "So get lost."

Zabini looked like he dearly wanted to curse Neville, but simply turned and walked away.

"Thanks, Nev." Harry sighed.

"It's nothing. I don't like him—he's dangerous. Be careful around him." Neville frowned. "The Hogs Head?"

"Yeah." Harry frowned again, catching a glimpse of Zabini talking to Greengrass a ways down the street. He continued staring at Harry as he followed Neville down the street.

Harry grinned as they approached the pub. A quick count told him that there were six Weasleys standing outside of the door—along with Hermione, Luna and Draco. He waved as they caught sight of him.

"Harry!" George threw an arm around Harry's shoulder when they were finally all together. Harry's grin faded as he noticed Ron, Percy, Charlie and Bill all frowning at him. Ginny had her arms crossed tightly across her chest and was glaring at her brothers. "We'd like to have a word with you, if you don't mind."

Whether Harry minded or not, George immediately started leading him away. Ron, Charlie and Bill followed while Percy argued heatedly with Ginny.

"We'd like to discuss some photos with you." Bill said seriously when they were a ways down the street.

"Oh." Harry fidgeted as George tightened his arm around Harry's shoulders. Bill pulled a couple of the photos in question out of his pocket and waved them at Harry. "We have a problem with our little sister being the photographer."

"And Hermione." Ron muttered darkly.

Harry felt the blood rushing to his face. "It's really not what you think."

"No, it most certainly is not!" Ginny snapped, her face red as she rushed up. Percy tried to grab her arm and pull her back, but she shook him off. "It was my idea—I practically forced him to do it."

"Ginerva Weasley—you will go wait over there until we are ready to talk to you." Bill said firmly. "If you two are going to be dating, there are going to be rules."

Ginny gaped at him. "We aren't _dating_! And even if we were, you have no right to be giving me any rules! I'm an adult, I can take care of myself!"

"You aren't dating!?" Charlie reeled on Harry, snatching the photographs out of Bills hands. "You do _this_, but aren't dating!?"

Harry ducked his head in embarrassment as the photos were thrown at his feet. "It's not like that—"

"Then what's it like? You better not be just using our sister for some fling!"

Harry winced, eyes flicking to Ron. He felt his throat tighten at his best mate's dark look. "Of course not! Ginny's one of my best friends! How could you think I'd do that!?"

"Then what are you doing? Because that certainly isn't nothing!?"

"Its—I… We were just—" Harry sputtered desperately. "I'm gay."

There was silence at this. Ginny huffed in annoyance and smacked Bill upside the head—hard. "If I say that _nothing _is going on—I mean that _nothing_ is going on! I don't need you to come sweeping in to defend my honor. When and if I am having sex with someone you will just have to deal with it. I won't have you going after my friends—if it happens again I will hex you ragged. Do I make myself clear!?"

"Crystal." Bill muttered, flushing. He glanced up at Harry, who was still being squeezed under George's arm. "Er. Sorry about that. So… You're…"

"One of the girls?" Harry supplied. "Yeah."

"You know, I always wanted another little sister." George chuckled, ruffling Harry's hair as Bill shifted nervously. George released Harry, smirking as he held out a hand to his brothers. "I believe you lot owe me a Galleon each. I knew Harry was a fairy."

Harry sputtered. "You made a bet about my sexuality!?"

"Of course we did."

Ron grumbled, pulling out a Galleon and shoving it in George's hand. Bill, Charlie and Percy did the same.

Harry quickly looked away as Ron glanced at him.

"Er… I'm sorry." Ron kicked at the dirt, looking down at his shoes. "I-er… I knew you wouldn't really do that… I overreacted."

"It's okay." Harry shrugged, shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other. Ginny came up next to him and sighed as she straightened his hair.

"I'm sorry about them—they're idiots." Ginny shot another glare at her brothers—who all looked away shame-faced. "Didn't mean to force you out of the closet."

Harry shrugged. "Would have come out soon anyways."

Ginny huffed again, squeezing Harry's arm and stomping past her brothers back to the pub—where Hermione, Luna and Draco were watching the scene with curious looks. She grabbed Hermione's arm and pulled her a little ways away, whispering furiously.

"Oh. Bugger." Ron ducked behind Harry when Hermione's gaze turned livid. "She's going to tear me a new one."

"You deserve it." Harry chuckled. "You have to trust her—and me. You know I would never go behind your back."

Ron gulped, ducking lower as Hermione came stomping over. She stopped only long enough to glare at the brothers before sweeping up to Ron and grabbing his ear.

"Ronald Billius Weasley. We are going to have a _serious_ talk."

"Ow!" Ron squawked. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

Hermione ignored him as she dragged him away. Harry grinned, catching Ginny's smug smile as she motioned everyone towards the pub. Charlie fell into step with Harry.

"I'm sorry about that." Charlie grinned. "I guess I should have figured—what with the make-up and all."

Harry shook his head. "You should trust your sister. She has a good head on her shoulders. She isn't going to fall for some idiot who isn't going to treat her right."

"I know. But she's my baby sister. It seems like just yesterday she was waddling around after us in diapers—calling me 'Chawie.'" Charlie smirked when Ginny shot him another glare over her shoulder.

"Still—if she could handle growing up with you lot…" Harry muttered.

"True." Charlie snickered. "So. How about you? When will we be chasing down some bloke to defend your honor?"

Harry snorted, the blood rushing to his face. "I am more than capable handling my own honor, thank you very much."

George suddenly appeared on his right, flinging an arm over Harry's shoulders again. "Yes. Do tell—it's a Weasley rite of passage for the entire family to ruin your first date. I remember my first date with Angelina—yew! Mum broke out the baby pictures."

Harry grinned. "Lucky for me. I don't have any embarrassing baby pictures."

"No. But that won't matter—mum will still do something equally mortifying." George grinned. "And Dad will use his contacts at the ministry to do a full background check—Bill and Charlie will give him 'the talk' and Percy will do his very best to bore him to death."

"And what will you do?" Harry asked, rolling his eyes as they walked into the pub. It hadn't changed at all—it was still dirty and dim. But it felt comfortable to Harry.

"I'll do my very best to make him cry." George said simply. "We figure that anyone who sticks around after all that must be in it for the long run." He went up to the bar with Percy to order the drinks.

Harry chuckled, a warm feeling flooding him at the thought of bringing a date home to meet the Weasleys—he had a sudden vision of what it would be like if he tried to bring Snape home and he had to bite his tongue to keep his laughter in check. He slid into the seat between Draco and Ginny. Ginny was still scowling at her brothers.

"So. Do you think Ron's going to still be in one piece when Hermione gets done with him?" Bill asked quietly.

"Not likely." Charlie, Harry and Draco answered. There was silence for a few seconds before the table broke out in laughter.

"Well, I'm glad this isn't awkward." Ginny sighed. Percy made his way to the table, levitating a tray with nine bottles of butterbeer. George was still at the bar, talking to Aberforth. The old man looked rather put out by the conversation.

"Is there a reason you and Charlie came here as well—other than to rough up poor Harry?" Ginny asked Bill.

"We came to see you, of course." Bill smiled. "And mum put us up to it—which reminds me. You might have a howler or two on the way."

"Lovely." Ginny growled. Her face lit up a second later. "Oh! That's okay. Harry knows how to disarm them anyways."

"Really?" Percy leaned closer to Harry. "That is quite an useful skill—how did you figure out how to do that?"

Harry shrugged. "We're learning how to detect enchantments on objects in defense—I kind of just stumbled upon it."

"He's being modest." Luna interjected dreamily. "He's quite brilliant at it. He's the only one in the class who's made any progress on breaking the curses so far."

Bill smiled appreciatively. "Thinking about a career as a curse-breaker? Or maybe laying protective enchantments? Gringotts is always looking for new people."

Harry shook his head. "They wouldn't hire me—I robbed them. Besides, I'm banned from Gringotts for life."

"Oh." Bill's face fell. "I'd forgotten about that. Still. There's always the private sector."

"I've considered it. But I'm in no hurry to decide right now. I've still got to get through my NEWTs."

"Right you are, Harry." Percy agreed.

"Besides, Harry could always come work for Weasleys Wizard Wheezes if he fails his NEWTs." George said, grinning as he sat down. "I hear he's done a right job in this prank war that is going on."

Ginny giggled. "He charmed all the dishes in the Great Hall to start a food fight."

"Blimey! That was one thing me and Fred never had the chance to do." George sighed wistfully. The door to the pub swung open, and Hermione came in. Ron was flushed and subdued as he followed her.

The lunch hour passed quickly. Bill and Charlie left early to get back to Ottery St. Catchpole before their mother did anything rash—or so they said. George and Percy had a meeting with a realtor, and Ron had to report back to his advisor. They promised another meeting soon.

"That was fun." Luna muttered dreamily as they left the pub.

"What do we want to do now?" Ginny asked. "I don't have anything left to buy."

"I do." Draco snorted. "I need to replenish my potions stock." He was scowling.

"The owner wouldn't sell to him." Luna explained calmly.

"Oh." Harry frowned. "If you want, I can go back and buy the ingredients for you."

Luna answered instead of Draco. "That would be very nice of you Harry."

Draco looked ready to argue, but shoved a list and a coin pouch into Harry's hands. He walked away without a word. Harry rolled his eyes, but pocketed the money and looked at the list. There were twenty-seven different ingredients.

"You have to meet me afterwards, so we can buy you some decent dress robes for next week." Ginny suddenly slapped her forehead. "I'd nearly forgotten."

"I was so close, too." Harry muttered, pouting at her. "Do I have to?"

"Yes. If you don't show up, you don't get a say. If you aren't at the robe shop in an hour I'm going to pick them out for you and I don't want to hear any complaining." Ginny crossed her arms pointedly.

"You're not going to give me a say anyways, so how bout you just go ahead and pick them out? I don't mind."

Ginny looked slightly put off, before a grin broke out on her face.

"But no glitter, sequins, or tassels." Harry quickly amended, gulping when it did nothing to ease her wicked grin. "I'm going to regret this, aren't I?"

"Oh. Definitely."

Harry groaned, but smiled. "Well, I'm off to the apothecary."

"We'll see you back at the castle when you're done." Hermione smirked, pulling on Ginny's arm. Neville coughed into his hand, and wordlessly started down the street. "Don't stay out too late."

"Oh don't worry. I won't." Harry muttered, frowning as he retraced his steps to the Apothecary. Several students called out to him as he passed, but he only waved at them.

There was no sign of Everett in the shop when Harry walked into the door. He heard some bustling around coming from the room behind the counter, and waited patiently with his arms crossed.

"Harry." Everett smiled warmly when he stepped into the shop. "Back already? Should I start the tea?"

Harry shook his head. "I need to buy some ingredients for a friend who can't come himself." He held out the list, following Everett across the shop to the wall of ingredients.

"I see." Everett frowned, looking the list over. "Some of these ingredients are not required for NEWT Potions. Whose list is this?"

"Draco Malfoy's." Harry said calmly.

Everett raised an eyebrow at him, his smile dying completely. "Oh. I see." He handed the list back to Harry and went back to the counter.

"You're not going to sell to me?"

"No. I'm not going to sell to _him_."

Harry scowled. "Right. I guess I'll be shopping for my potion needs elsewhere. Pity. I don't imagine the Apothecary will be in business for long if the majority of Hogwarts boycotts the shop."

Everett stiffened, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes. "And how do you imagine you can accomplish that?"

Harry smirked. "Oh. Easily enough. After all, my opinion carries a lot of weight. A few subtle hints that I feel my money is better spent elsewhere would wreak havoc, don't you think? Particularly since it would not be hard to arrange for the students to be able to buy from Diagon Alley—or Knockturne Alley for that matter." Harry walked casually to the door, his gaze hard as he turned back to Everett one last time. "You see, I didn't fight that bloody war so that bigotry and prejudice can continue just like it did during Voldemort's reign."

"He's a Death Eater!" Everett spat.

"He was." Harry agreed. "He also refused to sell me out to Voldemort when he had the chance and was secretly helping Voldemort's prisoners—even when he was tortured for doing so. As far as I'm concerned, that is more than enough to wash away some stupid mark on his arm."

Everett was silent at that—gaping like a fish. Harry just rolled his eyes, and turned to leave the shop.

"Wait!"

Harry paused with his hand on the door, but didn't turn around.

"I'm sorry."

"Are you now? For what?"

"For offending you."

Harry sighed. "You don't offend just _me_. You offend everyone who fought and died for the belief that their sacrifice would make the world a better place." Harry left the shop, taking two steps away from the door. He turned in place just as he heard the door slam open behind him and apparated to Diagon Alley.


	11. Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

The next day, Harry was summoned to the Headmaster's office just as soon as he sat down to breakfast. He managed a few bites of toast before treading the familiar path to the Gargoyle. He didn't even have to utter a password—the stair case appeared as soon as he approached.

The door to Snape's office stood open, but Harry knocked on the doorframe all the same.

"Get in here, Potter."

Harry did as he was told, closing the door behind him and taking a seat when Snape motioned for him to sit.

"There are several issues we need to discuss." Snape's face was carefully blank. "The first being your treatment of Professor Devereux yesterday in Hogsmeade."

Harry fidgeted. "I know I was rude—but he was throwing things and having a fit because the Apothecary didn't have any Acromantula venom. He got offended when I told him that there are Acromantulas _here_, and insulted Hagrid. I lost my temper."

Snape arched an eyebrow, folding his hands under his chin. "I see. Fortunately for you, he doesn't realize which student was doing the insulting—seems to think that it was a young _lady_ mouthing off to him."

Harry blushed, ducking his head. "Yeah. I caught that part when he called me a silly little girl."

"There is also the issue of you attempting to blackmail Mr. Bell at the Apothecary."

"Blackmail is a rather strong word…" Harry scratched the back of his neck. "It's more like I told him I don't agree with his business practices and would suggest to other people that their money would be better spent elsewhere."

The Headmaster leaned back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. "And why, pray tell, would you threaten to put him out of business?"

"Because he refused to sell to Draco—and then refused to sell to me when I went back to buy for Draco." Harry shrugged. "I don't like that—not just because it's wrong. Draco _has_ to have those ingredients for class, and I don't think that anyone should have the right to sabotage him like that."

"You do realize that a business has the right to refuse service to _anyone_."

"Yes. And I have the right to refuse to shop there and make recommendations to my fellow students to shop elsewhere as well." Harry sighed. "I'm not going to just let that sort of discrimination slide—not when I'm in a position to do something about it."

"I see." Snape was smirking. "Very well—I will send a letter to Mr. Bell informing him that I believe the grounds by which you are rejecting his business are sound and insinuate that I might also be inclined to support this boycott of yours if he doesn't change his business practices."

Harry smiled. "That is very prudent of you, Sir."

"As for the situation with Professor Devereux…"

Harry sighed. "Detention?"

"No. The Professor was unable to identify the culprit—until he does so, I will not issue undeserved punishments." Snape stood up, walking around the desk. "It might be wise to avoid Devereux for a few days—at least until he won't recognize you as the same student from the Apothecary. If he drags you to my office, I will have no choice but to issue quite a few detentions for your blatant insubordination. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir." Harry grinned. "Sir? If you don't mind me asking, how did you figure out it was me in the first place?"

"I could think of no other student who would so blatantly disrespect a member of the staff and jump to Hagrid's defense. Though at first, I might have thought it was Miss Granger, except I do not think she is familiar with the Acromantula population of Hogwarts. I admit, when Devereux said it was a _female_ student, I was somewhat at a loss." Snape's smirk turned downright evil, and Harry shuddered. "Do you make a habit out of portraying yourself as feminine, Mr. Potter?"

Harry felt the heat rise to his cheeks, but smirked back. "Occasionally. You know us _girls_, we like to get dolled up every now and again."

Snape's eyebrow arched, and he leaned against the desk. "Should I be congratulating you on your new found self-control, Mr. Potter?"

"Sir?"

"You managed to keep your clothes on this time around." There was that trademark sneer.

Harry swallowed hard, lowering his eyes. "Of course—wouldn't want to offend your sensibilities with partial nudity, now would I?"

"My sensibilities should have little to do with your sense of propriety." Snape snapped. "I have lost count of the number of those obscene photographs that I have confiscated."

Harry flinched, snapping his angry gaze back to the Headmaster. "I already apologized for that! What else do you want me to say? It's not like I handed them out myself! Someone went behind my back—"

"Spare me, Mr. Potter. I do not want to hear excuses."

"Then what do you want to hear!?" Harry leapt to his feet, clenching his fists. "You've already told me what you think of me because of those bloody photos! You think I'm tasteless and vulgar and obscene! But what the bloody hell do you want me to do about it!? They're out there—I can't just wish them gone. There's nothing I can do about it!"

"I realize that, Mr. Potter."

"Then what is the point of bringing it up?" Harry crossed his arms, matching Snape's glare with one of his own.

"To make sure it doesn't happen again."

"Of course it isn't going to happen again!" Harry threw his arms in the air, huffing loudly. "Did you not understand that!? I made a mistake—I'm paying for that mistake. I'm learning from that mistake the hard way! I don't need you to rub my nose in it!"

"Is that what you think I'm doing?"

"Yes!" Harry was breathing heavy, and dropped his gaze from the suddenly cold stare the Headmaster was giving him. "I'm ashamed of those photos—they're humiliating. I don't need to hear from you that they're obscene—I already know that." He fidgeted, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. He slowly looked up from the floor and met Snape's gaze. The man's expression was carefully blank.

"The photos themselves are not the issue—the issue is that they do not belong in a school. You took my words out of context, Mr. Potter."

Harry snorted. "Can't imagine how I did that."

"I admit that I may have been harsh—however I do not regret my words. It is completely inappropriate for photographs of that nature to circulate among _children_." Snape snarled.

"I know that! I never said you were wrong! If it had been up to me, I would have burned them the first second I saw them." Harry bit his lip, casting his gaze back to the ground. "Are we finished?"

"Yes."

"Good." Harry left the office quickly, avoiding Snape's gaze. He didn't go back down to the Great Hall, instead slipping back up to the dorm to grab his book bag and shaking off Neville and Hermione's questions by saying he had homework to do. Harry was in the library still pretending to do homework when Draco came storming in a few hours later. Harry silently put a spell on the chair across from him when he saw the blonde heading straight for him.

"What did you do!?" Draco snarled, throwing a letter across the table at Harry. Harry looked up from his homework and raised an eyebrow, silently reading the apology from Everett.

"I told him I thought his attitude was a betrayal to the ideals we fought the war over." Harry shrugged, handing the letter back to Draco. "I certainly didn't plunge into the bloody war just to see the same prejudice spring up again after the fact."

"I don't need you to come to my defense, Potter!"

"Bloody hell, Malfoy!" Harry groaned. "Are you seriously going to take this as a slight against you? I can't stand that people are still playing their fucking superiority games! Haven't I been fighting against this shit since day one?"

Draco didn't respond, sitting down heavily. He crumpled the letter and threw it down on the table.

"Look. It's not like I'm doing this just to spring to your defense—if we keep going in this cycle it's never going to end." Harry pointed out. "We either do away with inequality altogether or it's just going to come right back around and bite us in the ass with the rise of another Dark Lord. Hate and prejudice was how Voldemort got so many people to willingly follow him."

Draco still didn't say anything, and Harry sighed heavily. "Doesn't it mean anything to you that I don't hold it against you?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"I was on the tower that night—under my invisibility cloak." Harry began slowly.

Draco paled, looking down at his hands. His voice quivered slightly. "So?"

"So I know you didn't go prancing off to join the Dark Lord in search of power and glory—hell, I know you didn't even torture anyone unless Voldemort was standing over you with the threat that it would be you if you didn't comply."

"How could you possibly know that!?" Draco leapt to his feet. "I never told anyone about that!"

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose. "I had a mental connection with him—I saw a lot of things that Voldemort did. Half the time I was just a bloody passenger in his mind."

"But—that's… that's horrible." Draco muttered. He was trembling when he sat down again.

"Tell me about it…" Harry ran a hand through his hair. "My point is—Voldemort was awful. Truly awful. He didn't feel remorse for _anything_—and the closest he ever came to joy was feeling pleasure when he was causing pain—and that was bordering on sexual pleasure more than anything else. Even his most loyal followers barely registered as anything more than useful tools. And you were stuck—right in the middle of it. Your father was a loyal servant—you couldn't do anything but follow him. There wasn't another option. But that day, when the Snatchers brought us in—it would have only taken one word and you would have become one of Voldemort's favorites. When Bellatrix asked you if I was Harry Potter—all you would have had to say was 'Yes.' But you didn't. And when Luna told me that you had been helping her…"

Harry sighed as he trailed off. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that I really understand what your position was—"

"I get it, Potter." Draco snapped. "Don't hurt yourself by trying to explain something that's too deep for you to comprehend."

Harry snorted. "Prat."

"I had to stop you before you got all emotional and sentimental. That would just be going too far." Draco sneered.

"Yeah, yeah." Harry muttered, turning back to his not-homework.

"So, what did you really say to get Bell to issue a formal apology?"

"Oh. I threatened him." Harry said simply, smirking. "Subtly, of course. Mentioned how I wouldn't spend my money at a shop with business practices I didn't approve of—and told him it would be a pity if all of Hogwarts were to boycott his shop. Snape said he was going to send a letter saying he approved the boycott as well."

"Who would have figured? The Golden Boy has a mean streak and plays dirty. Blackmail? Really, Potter?"

Harry laughed. "Keep that little tidbit to yourself, will you? A secret weapon is only good if it stays a secret."

They laughed quietly. Draco smoothed out the letter. "He said he would be delighted to have me as a customer."

"That is up to you." Harry shrugged. "I'm not going to tell him whether or not I accept that as sufficient groveling—I'd rather let him sweat it out."

"You really do have a mean streak."

"I most certainly do." Harry smirked.

Draco rolled his eyes, pushing his chair back. "Well, I'll leave you to your deviations and your… homework?" The blonde's eyes narrowed at the page of doodles Harry hadn't thought to hide.

"I finished my homework by Thursday." Harry shrugged.

Draco quickly sat back down, quirking an eyebrow. "Then why does everyone think you are down here doing your homework at the last minute?"

"Because I don't want to be bothered."

"Oh." Draco leaned back in his chair, frowning. "Why?"

Harry shook his head. "Because Ginny and Hermione have this weird sixth sense—the instant they look at me they know if something's bothering me. And then they pick at me to talk about it. And I _don't_ want to talk about it."

"So, what's bothering you?"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Did you pay any attention at all to what I just said—I don't want to talk about it."

"Alright." Draco pushed himself back to his feet. "Whatever you say. But I'm not going to lie—if anyone asks I'm going to be honest and tell them that you're hiding because you're upset about something."

"Whatever." Harry snorted, turning his attention back to his doodle page as Malfoy started to walk away. "Oh, Malfoy?" Harry kept his face carefully blank.

"What?"

"Nice tail." Harry smirked as the blonde started cursing.

"You'll pay for this, Potter!"

"Maybe." Harry smiled, packing his stuff in his bag. "You have less than a month to get me back."

"Then I'll have plenty of time to spare!" Draco stormed out of the library in much the same manner he arrived—the black tail flicking irritably behind him.

The prank war was back on full swing by dinner that night. The paranoia was nearly tangible between the six competing members of the contest. Harry was glad that he was having dinner with Remus and Andromeda rather than in the Great Hall—he'd already successfully avoided 31 different hexes, jinxes and charms that had been placed on various objects around him. And he wasn't really in the mood for it.

Monday morning brought another wave of pranks—which Harry easily avoided. It also brought the release of the dreaded Special Edition Witch Weekly. Harry would have been content to just skip breakfast, if Ginny hadn't burst in on him and helped him get ready to face the day as an official 'most eligible bachelor.'

"I really don't want to do this, Ginny." Harry muttered as his friend dragged him into the Great Hall. She had convinced him to dab on a little eyeliner and some clear lip-gloss.

"You have to face it head on—hold your head up high." Ginny explained. Hermione and Luna were already at the table, and Harry smiled half-heartedly as he was pushed into his seat.

"So. You never did ask about your new dress robes." Ginny suddenly said, nudging Harry's arms. "They're quite fabulous."

"I believe you." Harry muttered. "When do I get to see them?"

"When I'm getting you ready for the Awards Ceremony." Ginny shrugged. "They're perfect. Just trust me."

Harry wasn't sure whether to feel assured or to give into the dread building in the pit of his stomach. Before he could make a real decision, there was a rush above their heads and the hall was filled with owls. He watched with no small amount of trepidation as an owl descended in front of Ginny with a rolled magazine tied to its leg.

"There it is!" Ginny grinned as she snatched up her copy of Witch Weekly from the owl, quickly thumbing through it. "Neville! You're in here too!"

Neville just groaned.

Harry was ignoring everyone, though he could practically feel the stares directed at him. The Hall was unusually quiet—just the occasional whisper. He put some toast on his plate, but didn't start eating. The magazine was suddenly shoved into his line of sight.

"Read it." Ginny muttered.

Harry took the magazine, raising an eyebrow at her frown. He quickly skimmed through the magazine. He wasn't actually one of the top ten most eligible bachelors—he felt a sense of dread fill his stomach. His article was actually in the back of the magazine—a brief editor's note explained that the last three bachelors would have been in the top ten—except they were considered 'unobtainable.' That's where he had been placed—along with Severus Snape and Remus Lupin.

Harry slowly turned to the article about him. The top of the page was taken up with one of the photos Harry had at least found tasteful—the one of him staring out of the window. Harry gasped at the title of the article—right under the picture in fiery letters were the words 'Harry Potter is more than hot—he's flaming!'

Harry turned to Ginny. "Is that supposed to mean what I think it does?"

"Just read it."

Harry sighed, turning back to the article.

_Many of our readers will question why Harry Potter isn't in our Top Ten. After all, he is absolutely delicious, has the body of an Adonis and single-handedly vanquished He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named! Mr. Potter was set to be our Number 1 most eligible bachelor of the year, until just days ago when news reached our editors desk that our favorite hero isn't as eligible as we all hoped. And no, it isn't that Harry Potter is simply off the market. Witches all over Britain will be heartbroken to know that the Boy-Who-Lived bats for the other team. That's right, ladies— the Sizzling Savior of the Wizarding World is a flaming homosexual! _

Harry blinked down at the short annotation, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks. "Well—damn."

"Yeah." Ginny snorted. "Not very tasteful, is it?"

"Not one bit." Harry grumbled. "I'm stealing this from you—I'll give it back later. I want to read the other articles."

"That's fine." Ginny shrugged.

Harry shoved the magazine into his bag, pushing himself up from the table. He felt a stab of irritation when he noticed some of the third year girls from the Hufflepuff table were rather teary-eyed as they watched him. "Ridiculous."

"Harry?" Hermione asked in confusion. "What did the article say?"

"I've been outed." Harry muttered, swinging his bag over his shoulder. "I'll see you guys in class."

"See ya."

Harry left the Hall quickly, purposefully ignoring the staring and snickers that followed his exit. He groaned in irritation when he saw Zabini jump up from the Slytherin table to follow him.

"Harry!"

"Go away, Zabini." Harry snapped, slipping out onto the grounds.

"Don't be like that. Why do you have to play games? First, you act like a naïve, bloody virgin—I bought it, I'll admit. I wasn't even sure of your preferences—could guess, and obviously I was right… but there's no point in hiding it any more, right?" Zabini was smirking at him, and Harry pointedly kept walking. "I enjoy the chase as much as the next guy—but I'm getting tired of the hard-to-get ruse."

Harry kept silent, mentally willing Zabini to take the hint and just leave. A hand closed firmly on his arm and yanked him to a stop. Harry tried to pull away, but the grip tightened and he was forcibly turned around and pulled flush against the taller boy. He growled, a biting insult on the tip of his tongue when Zabini's mouth was suddenly covering his own, his tongue diving into Harry's open mouth.

Harry stood frozen for a second, his eyes wide before he bit down as hard as he could on the invasive tongue and shoved hard at Zabini's chest.

"You little bitch!" But Zabini was laughing as he spat blood on the ground. "You like it rough and dirty, do you?"

Harry's heart was racing. "How I like it is none of your damn business—and you can damn well be sure you're never going to find out. I am not interested. So back the fuck off!"

"Don't be like that." Zabini took a step towards him. "We could be having so much fun right now if you would just give up this silly little act and stop playing around."

Harry whipped out his wand, shooting out a binding spell. Zabini yelled as he crashed to the ground, wrapped firmly in thick ropes. "I am not _playing _around. I am not interested—get it through your thick skull. You just don't do it for me, Zabini."

Harry cast a silencing spell when Zabini tried to answer, turning on his heel and marching off towards the lake. His hands were shaking, and he wiped angrily at his mouth. "Stupid, fucking, arrogant, big-headed, bloody ponce." He determinedly kept walking around the lake, cursing under his breath. He didn't care that he was going to miss his first class—didn't really care if he missed all his classes.

"Was I really that dense?" Harry cringed as he remembered all his previous encounters with Zabini. It made a lot more sense—Zabini was after something alright. He had been trying to get into Harry's pants. Harry grimaced.

He was a naïve blushing virgin, wasn't he? Harry cursed, throwing his bag down on the ground and sinking down next to it. He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose in a feeble attempt to dislodge the headache that was pounding in his skull. He huffed, pulling out the magazine and glaring at the cover. There was a picture of Kingsley on the cover—Harry grinned. That made sense. Kingsley was certainly a very attractive man.

He quickly flicked through the magazine. Kingsley was Number 3, Neville was Number 6 and George was Number 7. Harry snickered as he read the descriptions. Whoever wrote the articles was a hopeless romantic. Kingsley was dubbed as 'sleek good looks, political prowess and the hottest arse you've ever seen all rolled into the ultimate package.' Neville was 'endearingly shy, yet fiercely brave and loyal—selfless and caring in a way that would make him a most attentive lover.' Harry couldn't wait to see George's reaction—the magazine had denounced him as 'impish and rugged—devilishly mischievous, with a deceptively charming smile that promised a little bit of fun and a whole lot of love.'

Harry couldn't breathe he was laughing so hard. The Wizarding World was absolutely nuts. Still chuckling, he turned to the back of the magazine, passing up the brief article about himself and instead focusing on the one about Remus. The picture of the werewolf was a couple years old—it showed Remus lounging at a kitchen table, one arm draped around the back of the chair and the other hand tracing the rim of a mug. He was wearing a blue muggle t-shirt, and his amber eyes were focused to his left. A warm smile lit his entire face. Though the picture had been cropped, Harry was fairly certain that Tonks would have been right next to him.

Harry frowned, reading the title. 'Remus Lupin: A lone wolf.' It was in bad taste, in Harry's opinion. The article was even worse.

_Remus Lupin loses none of his sex appeal in the face of his Lycanthropy. In fact, the danger associated with his condition is like a shining beacon to the thrill-seekers and adventurers among us. Yet his gentle demeanor and quiet intelligence make him the perfect gentleman, and the ladies would go absolutely wild at the possibility to unleash the sex-beast within. This lone wolf will make your heart howl. Unfortunately for us, Mr. Big, Bad and Handsome lost his beloved wife in the final battle, and it is much too soon for even the most ambitious of us to try and sweep in to heal his shattered heart. So while Remus Lupin is still grieving and licking his wounds, we will have to settle for watching from afar until he is no longer just physically available, but emotionally as well._

Harry stared at the magazine with barely concealed rage. How dare they! Remus was in mourning for his wife, and they made it seem like it was just some affliction he had to get over before they could swoop in on him like bloody vultures.

"It's bloody disgusting. They have no sense of decency at all." Harry snorted, forcibly turning the page. He was met with a picture of Snape standing by the lake—his back was to the camera, and his dark hair was blowing around violently. The grey sky spoke of an incoming storm, and the Headmaster looked both imposing and distant.

'Severus Snape: Both an unstoppable force and an immovable object.'

_By now, everyone is familiar with the tragedy that is the life of one Severus Snape—his selfless sacrifice in the war against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named would warm the coldest of hearts and send women racing to show him the love he had been denied while he willingly took the mantle as a bad guy. Not to mention his past is still shrouded by secrets and intrigue. Mr. Tall, Dark and Mysterious burns with the intensity of the sun, yet his gaze is cold as ice. His tongue is sharp, and his words harsh—though many a woman would dream of putting that wicked mouth to better use. Nearly twenty years as a successful spy in You-Know-Who's inner circle have left this man guarded, unapproachable, and out of reach. There are none out there with the guts, the patience and the skill at countering hexes it would take to break through Severus Snape's icy exterior. _

Harry sneered down at the magazine. So, they had pretty much hit it on the head with Snape—but they made him seem like some emotional retard that was incapable of love. Harry bristled as he shoved the magazine back in his bag. Snape was most certainly capable of love—Harry had seen it for himself. And it wasn't his fault that life had been so cruel to him, that he had been dealt such a crappy hand.

Of course the man was guarded—Snape had known nothing but pain, betrayal and loss in his life. Harry shook his head, taking a deep breath and leaning back in the grass. The sun was shining weakly through a thin layer of clouds, and despite a chilly breeze it was decently warm out.

What right did anyone have to make public commentaries on people's lives like that? It wasn't anyone's business that Remus wasn't interested in dating because he was still grieving—or that Snape was a private person who kept to himself. And it sure as hell wasn't anyone's business that Harry preferred men—how the hell had they even found that out?

Harry stood abruptly, dusting himself off and staring out over the lake. He could see the giant squid just under the surface of the water, spread out in an attempt to soak in the sun's rays. He cast the tempus charm—the first class of the day was half over. Harry groaned, snatching his bag off the ground and slowly starting back towards the castle. He'd go to the library and work on his homework until Transfiguration was over—then he'd go to Charms. There was no point spending all day sulking. It wouldn't help anything.

And he was fairly certain that McGonagall would have his head if he skived off all his classes—he'd already be neck deep for missing Transfiguration. And for leaving Zabini essentially bound and gagged. Harry suppressed a chuckle at the thought. Served him right, the bloody git.

Madame Pince gave him a strange look when he walked into the library, but didn't comment as Harry set out his homework and silently searched the shelves. He was slowly but surely working his way through the Sixth Year Care of Magical Creatures work in an attempt to get caught up on the year he missed. It wasn't graded, but Harry would need to know the information when he took his NEWTs.

Charms was a nightmare. The entire class was alternating their attention between him and Flitwick—Zabini didn't even bother paying attention to the professor at all. Hermione and Ginny were shooting him worried looks, and Harry really just wanted to scream. Draco was snickering at him the whole time, and Luna just seemed oblivious. Neville at least seemed to understand what Harry was going through because he just gave Harry a grim smile and set to work taking notes.

When the lecture was finished, the class split into groups to work on fireproofing charms. Harry was working with Neville and Hermione—they were huddled around a small flame and were alternatingly charming the skin on their hands and sticking them in the flames to see if it worked. Flitwick had already passed out jars of burn salve for the first few times when the charm went awry.

"What happened with Zabini?" Hermione asked quietly, her voice masked by the general noise of the class. Harry quickly cast 'Muffliato' and leaned in close.

"He followed me out of the Great Hall—started spouting off something about me being tricky, playing hard-to-get and told me I didn't have to pretend any more. Then, he grabbed me and shoved his tongue down my throat. I bit him—he now seems to think I 'like it' rough and dirty. So I bound him and silenced him and left him spitting up blood on the ground." Harry explained quickly.

Hermione raised an eyebrow, and exchanged a look with Neville. "He's starting to get dangerous, Harry. If he's being that persistent it's only a matter of time before…" She trailed off nervously. "You should go talk to Snape or McGonagall about that."

Harry shook his head. "It's not a problem—I can take care of Zabini."

"That's not the point. If you keep hexing him you're going to get into trouble. It would really be better if you let at least one of the teachers know that you're having problems like _that_ with him."

"He's not going to keep trying shit like that." Harry muttered. "I made it very clear that I want nothing to do with him. He's determined—not stupid."

Neville just shrugged. "Just be careful. He's probably a sneaky bastard, and from what I've heard he'll go through a lot of trouble to get what he wants."

"I'll watch my back." Harry agreed, breaking the Muffliato Charm with a wave of his wand as Flitwick made his way over to check on their progress. The small man positively beamed when all three of them showed him their successful charms.

Harry was waylaid by McGonagall before he could leave Dumbledore Hall. Her lips were pressed thin and she motioned him to her office with a nod of her head. Harry followed her wordlessly. He took a seat as she closed the door with a snap.

"Mr. Potter. Would you care to explain to me why you missed my class this morning? And perhaps why you attacked Mr. Zabini and left him bound and silenced on the ground?"

Harry swallowed nervously. "Well, you see—Zabini was making a pass at me. He was being a bit pushy and wouldn't back off until I made him. After that, I had to go cool off for a bit."

McGonagall's eyebrows shot up to her hairline. "I see. And have you been experiencing similar problems from Mr. Zabini prior to this?"

Harry shrugged. "Not really—I mean he's approached me before, but nothing so obvious. And it wasn't like he was even that aggressive or anything, he just wasn't letting me get a word in."

McGonagall crossed her arms, staring at Harry intently. "Very well. However, I expect you to inform either myself or the Headmaster if you continue to have problems with Mr. Zabini's intentions towards your person. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal." Harry smiled wryly.

"Good. Now, do try to curb your unending tendency to get caught up in complete turmoil. I won't be so lenient the next time you attack another student."

Harry opened his mouth to argue—but snapped it shut when he realized he was about to spout the same old line of 'I don't find trouble, trouble finds me.' Professor McGonagall seemed to read it in his face though, because she smiled and rolled her eyes.

"You may go."

"Thank you, Professor." Harry let himself out of the office, heading to the Great Hall. He caught sight of Zabini glowering at him from the Slytherin table and couldn't suppress his eye-roll. Honestly, what did the boy think would happen? That Harry would just fall into his arms because he was gay?

Harry smiled as he sat down in between Ginny and Luna. Hermione raised a questioning eyebrow at him from across the table, but Harry just shook his head and loaded his plate with everything within reach. He was starving.

"So, Potter." Malfoy leaned over to glance around Luna. "Hear you one-upped Zabini. It's about bloody time you put an end to his incessant fawning."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I just hope he took the bloody hint this time."

"He probably didn't. He's attracted to power—and sees you as a challenge. He won't stop until he's conquered you."

"Conquered?"

"He wants you on your knees." Draco supplied, grinning smugly when Harry choked on his pumpkin juice and flushed to the roots of his hair.

"Wanker."

"It's the truth." Draco said simply, shrugging. "Just watch your back."

"That's what everyone keeps telling me."


	12. Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

The stroke of midnight on October 1 was a dreadful moment for Harry. The sky was overcast, making the night seem darker than it had any right to be—and though Harry was bundled up in front of the fireplace in the common room he imagined that it was cold outside. As the minute slowly changed from Saturday night to Sunday morning, Harry held his breath and shuddered. He knew he should have at least been trying to sleep—but he just couldn't handle the nightmares.

Harry shivered, curling closer in on himself. He was wearing only his favorite pair of sleep pants—a pair of faded green flannels that were frayed on the edges—but they were comfy.

The awards ceremony had been looming over him since he got the stupid invitation. It was only the past week that it had finally caught up with him, and his nightmares had turned towards the night Sirius had fallen through the veil for the first time in over a year.

Only this time, they were worse.

It had been days since Harry had managed a decent night's sleep—and he was exhausted. He had no intention of sleeping that night. He knew he would regret it the next day when he went to the awards ceremony—but he wasn't going for him, he was going for Sirius. But his emotions were always more out of control when he was exhausted.

It wasn't going to end well. Harry could feel it in his bones.

Swallowing thickly, he had to wrench his eyes away from the fire and blink away his tears. It just made no sense—it had been two-and-a-half years since Sirius had died. Why was it so _fresh_ all of a sudden?

He knew why. It was that damned ceremony. The world was finally going to recognize that Sirius wasn't the mass-murderer that had betrayed his best friends.

Too bad it was too little, too late.

Harry had to bite hard on his fist to muffle the sob that tore from his chest. The tears came fast, and he made no effort to stop them. He couldn't have anyways.

_Harry was standing on the stone platform, watching in horror as Sirius was hit by the unknown curse from Bellatrix._

_Then, he was falling… The veil reaching out to catch him and the grin turning to a look of wide-eyed shock as he was swept into the darkness beyond. _

_"Nooo!" Harry screamed, lunging towards the veil even as Sirius was swept behind it out of view. Only this time, Remus wasn't there to hold him back and he dove through the archway, the veil weighing heavily on him as he forced himself forward._

_It was completely dark—Harry couldn't see anything… He could hear though. The whispering voices were still as quiet as ever, but grew sharper and harsher. Harry yelled when he felt the sharpness of each whispered word start to cut into him._

_The blackness was slowly easing, turning grey. _

_But it was still a void—there was nothing there._

_And still, the voices sliced into him—making him scream… His voice was hoarse._

_A whistle blew, driving away the rest of the darkness and Harry was once again at the train station. Like before, everything was white, pure, clean… sterile really… This time, though, there was no Dumbledore and Harry couldn't even his breathing and calm himself down._

_The voices still echoed behind him, their words gouging into his back._

_"…don't belong here…"_

_"…never going back…"_

_"…ungrateful…"_

_"…reap your just reward…"_

_Harry risked a glance over his shoulder—the veil stood behind him, fluttering madly as a wind picked up and he stumbled towards it, fighting to brace himself against the strong gust._

_"The train will be deporting in precisely one minute. Any passengers not boarded should do so now." The new voice was cool and feminine—detached just like the prerecorded female voice at the Ministry of Magic. Harry whipped back towards the train, struggling forward as another gust of wind pushed him towards the archway. He could feel the veil brushing his back._

_Sirius was there—he was on the train. Harry could see him through one of the windows, lounging calmly in his seat. He was calm, smiling easily and without the worry-lines that Harry had always known him to have. There was no hint of Azkaban in the man's face… No hint of war, or pursuit… he was peaceful._

_Harry cried out, forcing himself towards the train even as the wind picked up again to impossible strength, he was knocked off his feet and clawed helplessly at the ground as the whistle blew again. _

_"Sirius!"_

_Sirius looked out the window, smiling and waving as the train slowly started to move away. Harry screamed as he was swept back through the arch, back into the darkness._

_Harry expected to wake up—he knew it was only a dream. Of course it was only a dream. But instead, he was crouching, shivering in the darkness and waiting. The voices were still slicing into him, starting to echo and grow louder and louder._

_"Lumos!"_

_Harry blinked rapidly at the ball of light just over his left shoulder. He couldn't make out the figure beyond the blaringly bright wand—but in the circle of light he caught a glimpse of several other figures standing around him in a circle. They were all wearing black, hooded robes that covered their faces. The wind picked up again, cold against his skin and Harry realized he was completely naked._

_As soon as the revelation hit him, the surrounding Death Eaters started laughing._

_"What's the matter? Is itty-bitty-baby Potter feeling a little exposed?" Bellatrix stepped forward, the wand in her hand illuminating the dark gleam in her eyes. _

_"Don't torture him Bellatrix. Only I have that right." The high, cruel voice cut through the air, and Harry yelped as a dozen welts tore across his skin as if from an invisible whip. There was more laughter around him as blood started trailing down his back and chest._

_"Come now, Potter. Surely you aren't going to die cowering at my feet in shame, now are you?" Voldemort sidled up to him, and Harry gritted his teeth as he stood to face the man. _

_"That's more like it. Avada Kadavra!"_

_As the green light flashed towards him, Harry screamed. His wand wasn't in his pocket—he wasn't wearing anything. He didn't have any pockets. The laughter was growing louder with his screams as the green light hit him full in the chest and he was trying to cast a spell back… if he was going to hell, he was going to drag the bastard with him at any rate—_

A sharp pain across his face had Harry sitting bolt upright, his wand outstretched in front of him and curse already flying. He heard a shriek and a loud crash.

"Harry! Snap out of it! It's just a dream!"

Harry blinked rapidly, hand clutching at his heart as his eyes slowly focused in the dimly lit common room. Hermione and Neville were splayed on the ground, the wall behind them scorched and smoking. Neville slowly turned his wide eyes to the damage that had only missed because of his quick thinking.

"Sorry, Harry. I tried to stop her from waking you up like that—you were screaming something awful, mate."

The smoke was still thickening, and did nothing to help Harry's already labored breathing. He coughed violently, while Hermione stood up and vanished the smoke.

"You okay?" She was pale and shaking, but met his eyes steadily.

"I'm so sorry!"

"Don't! It was my fault… I should have known better…" Hermione ducked her head, instead turning her attention to the damaged wall, which was slowly melting and continued to pour off large amounts of smoke. "I'm just glad Neville has such fast reflexes. How do we stop the curse?"

Harry blinked. "I have no idea. I don't even know what curse I used."

"Oh. That could be a bit of a problem." Hermione muttered nervously, biting her lip as the melted stone dripped sluggishly onto the floor.

"I'll go get professor McGonagall." Harry jumped, twirling around and training his wand on the unexpected voice behind him. Lavender shrieked, throwing herself to the ground. Dean flinched, but remained standing.

"Sorry…" Harry's voice was rough, and he hastily shoved his wand back into his pocket. "I'm just… jumpy…"

Dean nodded, pulling Lavender up by her arm and dragging her towards the portrait hole. "We'll go get McGonagall—you lot should probably get out of here before that smoke gets the better of you." To emphasize his point, he fanned the air and scrunched his nose. Hermione nodded, pulling Neville to his feet and gesturing Harry out of the common room. They were silent as the portrait swung closed behind them and Dean and Lavender disappeared down the darkened corridor.

"I'm really sorry."

"Harry. I don't want to hear it. We all have problems like this from the war—I damn hear took off Lavenders head when she tried to wake me up for classes last week. I should have listened to Neville—he warned me that it was a bad idea." Hermione sighed. "But you were screaming and I just… I couldn't _not_ do anything… and yelling for you wasn't helping…"

Harry shuddered, leaning back against the wall and closing his eyes. "Next time just… be careful, alright? I don't want to hurt you on accident."

"I know. I will be careful. Next time I'll just levitate a bucket of water over your head and make sure I'm out of range."

Silence fell as they waited rather impatiently for Dean and Lavender to return with McGonagall. They edged away from the portrait as smoke started pouring out through the cracks.

"Reckon we should get everyone's stuff out?" Neville asked.

"Probably."

The smoke billowed out of the portrait hole in earnest when it opened, and Hermione cleared the smoke before glancing towards the melting stone. One of the couches was on fire, and dangling precariously at the edge of a growing hole in the floor. There was also a gaping hole in the wall, letting the cold night air straight into the common room and chilling them to the bone.

"I'm really thankful for Neville's fast reflexes." Hermione commented. "Be quick about this, I'll get mine and Lavender's stuff, you get the boys."

Harry nodded, darting across the room and whipping out his wand. Beside him, Neville did the same. In less than a minute, they had everything in the room sloppily packed into the trunks and shrank them. "That's everything, I think."

Neville looked around. "Great. Let's get out of here."

Hermione was already waiting outside of the common room, banishing the smoke and shooting water out of her wand as a tapestry caught fire. A handful of portraits leaned against the wall in the corridor, and the painted inhabitants were coughing and thanking Hermione profusely.

"Didn't think about that."

"McGonagall isn't in her office!"

"Of course she isn't! It's the middle of the night!" Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Well, it's not like I know where her private rooms are!" Dean muttered darkly as he approached, raising an eyebrow at the smoke that was flooding the corridor despite Hermione's vanishings. "Sent Lavender to see if she couldn't fetch Flitwick instead."

Neville handed Dean his shrunken trunk. "So what do we do now?"

"You guys try to keep the fire from spreading, if it gets much worse we might have to evacuate the Gryffindors." Harry started for the stairs. "I'm going to go get Snape." He didn't wait for an answer before he broke into a light jog. It took him a bit to get down to the second floor, and Harry was out of breath by the time he was standing in front of the Gargoyle.

"Schools on fire. Need to see the Headmaster." Harry told the Gargoyle. To his surprise, it immediately rotated out of sight and he rushed up the stairs as soon as they appeared. The door at the top opened for him, and Harry looked around for Snape. He wasn't there.

"Oh. Bugger." Harry slipped behind the desk, eyes focused on the door in the back of the office that he had only seen Dumbledore come out of once. He was fairly certain that it lead to the Headmaster's private chambers.

'The school's on fire.' Harry reminded himself sharply, knocking heavily on the door. For a second, there was no response.

"Damnit, Minerva! I swear if you're waking me up because of that bloody meteor I'm going to curse you to your animagus form and transfigure all the students into blood-hounds and let them have a go at you!" The door slammed open, showing Severus Snape sloppily pulling on a dark-blue dressing gown over his black t-shirt and silken-shorts. The man's hair was mussed, and Harry felt his jaw drop a little.

Snape's eyes were suddenly boring into him. "Potter!? What are you doing!? How did you get into my office!? I changed the password yesterday!"

Harry snapped his mouth closed, trying to avert his gaze but his eyes locked on the mangled scars on Snape's neck. "It's an emergency and the Gargoyle just let me in."

"I swear, if you just woke me up to have another of your little chats—"

"No!" Forcefully shaking himself from his stupor, Harry met Snape's eyes. "Um… Our common room is on fire… well, melting actually. We can't figure out how to stop it." Harry looked up from his feet to see the Headmaster struggling to compose himself.

"Well, don't just stand there you idiot! Let's go." Harry jumped back, leading the way out of the office with Snape on his heels. They were silent as they climbed their way back towards Gryffindor tower.

Smoke was pouring down the corridor when they climbed the last staircase. Snape gave a wave of his wand, and Harry found himself breathing clean air, a bubblehead charm wrapped around his mouth and nose protectively. Snape had one as well as he slowly took in the scene ahead of him.

Hermione was frantically dousing everything that she possibly could with her wand while Dean and Neville were levitating portraits out of harm's way. The wall that used to host the portrait hole to the 'eighth year' common room was completely gone, melting into the floor. A steady stream of lava was starting down the corridor, melting more of the floor as it went. Flitwick was busily running diagnostics over the mess as close as he could get. Lavender was nervously standing at Flitwick's shoulder, pulling him back a step when the lava got too close.

"What happened?" Snape marched up to Flitwick.

"I don't know! I can't figure out what's causing this!"

"It's a curse of some sort!" Hermione explained desperately, shooting another stream of water at the molten rock—a great cloud of steam burst forth, and the Lava slowed a bit before regaining momentum. Her hair was frazzled, and sweat was pouring down her forehead. "Harry was having a nightmare—I sort of startled him awake and well… he doesn't know what curse he used. I don't recognize this from anything I've read…"

Harry ducked his head as Snape turned to look at him. "I didn't mean to… It's just…"

"There's no time for that Potter. I need to know what curse you used so I can figure out how to stop it from spreading. Mr. Thomas, Mr. Longbottom! Miss. Brown! Kindly go fetch the rest of the students in Gryffindor and escort them to the Great Hall. Miss Granger! Professor McGonagall is probably at the astronomy tower with Professor Sinistra. Go apprise her of the situation."

"Yes, Sir."

Harry watched wide-eyed as his year-mates followed the Headmaster's orders. Snape took Flitwick's arm and pulled him further down the hall even as another part of the wall crumpled in slow motion.

"I don't know what I did!" Harry shouted frantically when Snape turned towards him expectantly.

"We could figure it out, Mr. Potter."

"How?" Harry's eyes flickered back to the increasing devastation down the corridor. Flitwick had taken over removing the portraits, and was sending them whizzing past them down the hall and down the stairs.

"Legilimency."

Harry's breath caught in his throat as he turned back to meet dark, narrowed eyes. Snape didn't say anything further, just waited.

Harry nodded hesitantly. "Okay."

"Very well. I need you to concentrate hard on the few minutes before you cast the spell. Try not to fight me."

Harry nodded again, suddenly feeling sick and dropping his eyes to the ground. The few minutes before he cast the curse? It was an awful nightmare—he didn't want to have to share that with anyone, let alone Snape.

But they really did need to know how to undo the curse. Harry took a shuddering breath and concentrated on the dream, slowly looking up to meet the dark piercing eyes.

"Legilimens!"

Harry was prepared for the harsh, jabbing, ripping onslaught he had become familiar with in Occlumency lessons. Instead, the sensation of Snape entering his mind was gentle, a ghost like—dare he say it—caress. The older man's presence in his head felt little more than a niggling thought that slowly eased its way to the forefront of his mind where he was dutifully concentrating on his most recent nightmare, which was pulled forward in painfully sharp clarity as Snape concentrated on it.

When he had been dreaming it, Harry's emotions had coiled around in muteness—only intensifying in the heavier moments of panic.

Reviewing it under Snape's careful prodding brought every emotion rushing to him full blast, curling around him, constricting…

He would have lost it completely if it hadn't been for the calm, detached and purely analytical presence that remained unmoving as the scene unfolded. Vaguely, Harry was aware of more people entering the corridor around where he stood frozen with his gaze locked on Snape's.

When Voldemort strode forward out of the darkness, the alien presence in his mind faltered for the first time. It was enough to shatter the little control Harry had been clinging to. His thoughts reverberated harshly through his head and all composure was lost as Harry tried desperately to take Voldemort with him to hell.

"Potter!" Harry blinked rapidly, breath coming in harsh gasps and a curse on the tip of his tongue. He was still looking into the headmaster's eyes, though his knees had given out. Snape had a firm hold on both his wrists, and Harry's wand was pointed squarely at the man's chest.

"S-sorry…" Harry coughed, and the bubblehead disappeared a second before he doubled over and vomited. A hand brushed through his hair, and Snape muttered something too low for him to hear. It was calming.

"What curse did you use?"

Harry shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. He vanished his vomit without really looking as he quietly mouthed the word that had come to mind. "Flamortuorum."

"Flames of the dead?" A hand grasped Harry's chin, forcing his head up so he was looking Snape in the eye once more. "Are you certain?"

"Yes."

Snape studied him for another second before sweeping away—not very far away. By then, the molten stone was only a few feet away. Flitwick was scurrying back and forth, evacuating more and more portraits as the lava spread.

"Harry?" Harry looked up as Remus kneeled next to him. McGonagall was standing behind him, lips pressed thin and eyes wide as she observed the damage. "Are you okay?"

Harry just shook his head, turning to watch Snape work as he bellowed "Compri Ventumus!" The wand movements were complex, and Harry could visibly see the strain of forcing the spell into action in the headmaster's tight muscles. He leaned back into Remus when he felt warm arms wrap around his shoulders.

"Want to talk about it?"

Harry shook his head again, breathing a sigh of relief when a brush of icy air swept through the corridor, howling wildly. He could hear voices in the wind, and the chill cut him to the bone. The stone visibly cooled, the path of melting getting slower and slower until finally it was still. Harry shivered violently, burrowing gratefully into Remus' body heat as the cold air continued to race by until the stone was completely cooled. Snape observed his handiwork for a few seconds, finally turning to look at Harry.

"Flames of the Dead? Really?"

Harry coughed, ducking his head. "I didn't mean to—I didn't even know that curse before…"

"Of course you didn't. The Flamortuorum curse is one of the more abstract curses that usually needs a whole contingent of wizards in a very complex ritual. Only a handful of individuals in rather desperate situations have been able to cast it singularly. In essence, it is a mythological curse that doesn't exist—except sometimes it does. The Flames of the Dead curse—sometimes confused with hellfire—creates intense flames that are undetectable to the living."

Harry was relieved that Snape had gone into lecture mode—he was frowning at the damage done to the castle, but it was with professional interest.

"I thought the Flamortuorum curse was just a myth." Remus said quietly. "I haven't heard of anyone successfully using it. Even Voldemort couldn't make the curse work for him."

"It is almost a myth, though it appears at random intervals throughout history—there is enough evidence that it does exist. It is connected with the Samhain, or the day of the dead. It is very fortunate for us that Halloween is still a month off—otherwise I don't think I could have stopped the curse. It was the Flamortuorum curse that took out Pompeii, if one believes the legends. The evidence certainly points in that direction—and that was even further from the day when the barrier between life and death is the thinnest." Snape mused.

Harry shuddered again, pushing himself to his feet. "You mean, I could have destroyed Hogwarts?"

"The curse has infinite destructive capabilities, Mr. Potter." Snape tapped his chin thoughtfully, eyes raking over the damage once more. "Fortunately, the Flamortuorum curse is better documented now than it was in the first century. Those fools at Pompeii had no idea what they were getting into—enacted the curse as a ceremony to honor Vulcanalia—the God of Fire—and hopefully earn his blessing to alleviate a plague. I do not believe they had any idea how to stop it. We know now that the only way to combat such a curse is to use a similar curse of opposing effects—Compri Ventumus, or Ghostly Wind is an excellent counter. And fortunately for us, it isn't uncontrollable when cast."

"Oh." Harry coughed lightly, wrapping his arms around himself to try and ward off the chill from the wind that still whipped through the corridor from the giant hole in the side of the castle.

"Wait a minute—you said that the Flamortuorum curse can only be performed in the most desperate of circumstances?" Remus asked slowly. Harry ducked his head from Remus' gaze as the werewolf frowned at him. "What exactly were you so desperate about?"

Harry shrugged. "It was… well it wasn't _nothing_… but it was just a nightmare…"

"A nightmare? Harry, if your nightmares are _that_ bad, don't you think you might need some help?" McGonagall suddenly butted in, her eyebrows nearly disappearing into her hairline.

"They aren't _that_ bad usually. This was just—it was different. I don't know." Harry growled, running his hands angrily through his hair. "I haven't had one that bad in a long, long time. Ever really—it was like a combination of some of the worst dreams I've had…"

"What are you lot doing just standing here!"

Everyone jumped at the sharp tone of Madam Pomfrey. The Mediwitch was standing at the edge of the corridor with her hands on her hips. "I've already rounded up the others that were here directly, breathing in all that smoke. The rest of you will march straight down to the infirmary this instance so I can check for damage."

"Of course, Poppy." McGonagall rolled her eyes as soon as the demanding matron turned her back, but obediently followed. Harry let Remus direct him down the hall while Snape and Flitwick brought up the rear, eagerly talking about documenting the incident for the next edition of 'Hogwarts, A History.'

"It's not every Headmaster that can claim to have averted a Flamortuorum crisis. This is going into the history books."

Harry glanced over his shoulder to see Flitwick practically skipping. Snape was striding along beside him, not quite enthusiastic, but his eyes shining with unreserved interest.

"Maybe we could figure out how it works—I don't recall whether or not the castor has ever given an account of the curse. It wasn't often that the castor escaped from the curse alive."

Harry grimaced, thinking about how close he had come to hitting Hermione and Neville. His stomach clenched painfully as he thought about what would have happened if he had hit them.

At the head of the group, McGonagall and Poppy were whispering together, giggling as they looked over their shoulders. Harry followed their gaze, and saw Remus glance back as well. Snape was almost too immersed in his conversation with Flitwick to realize that everyone was staring.

"What?"

"Oh. Nothing." McGonagall answered quickly, though she didn't stop smirking as they finally arrived at the hospital wing. Hermione, Neville, Lavender and Dean were all lounging comfortably, Hermione and Neville sitting on one of the beds while Dean and Lavender leaned against the next bed over. They looked up as the door opened and the oddball group filed in.

"Did you stop it?" Hermione asked.

"Yes. The situation is under control." Snape explained coldly.

"What was it?"

"The Flamortuorum curse." Remus explained quietly as Pomfrey directed him to sit down on a bed. Harry was ushered to another bed, and though Snape and McGonagall both rolled their eyes when Pomfrey glared at them and pointed towards their beds, they complied with the Mediwitch. Flitwick's voice didn't even hitch as he climbed dutifully into his own bed, still explaining the ramifications of having a legitimate Flame of the Dead at Hogwarts.

"I thought that was a myth!"

Harry ignored the conversations that carried on around him, instead leaning back in his bed and frowning at the ceiling. McGonagall did have a point. If his dreams were that bad, he needed to get help. If not—if not he was going to hurt someone.

There was still a lot of time before Halloween. What if he did the Flamortuorum curse again?

He was drawn out of his thoughts when McGonagall suddenly leaned over the side of her bed and stage-whispered to him. "Well, Mr. Potter. I believe you broke a school record that even the Weasley twins never managed to break."

"Really? What record is that? Damage to school property?"

"No. You are the first student who has ever managed to get Severus to go out in the school in his knickers."

Harry choked a little at that, his eyes flicking to the Headmaster. Snape's cheeks pinked a bit, and he tried to pull his dressing robe tightly around him. It didn't have the intended effect as it still flared open at the waist, showing his silken black boxers and his legs from mid-thigh down.

"Why Minerva! How right you are!" Flitwick muttered excitedly. "Yet another epic event to add to the new edition of 'Hogwarts, A History!'"

Harry snorted, quickly shifting his budding laughter into a hacking cough that had Madame Pomfrey on him in a flash, uttering diagnostic spells. Snape glared at him, then at Remus who was openly chuckling, and at the other four students that were fighting to hide their laughter.

"Don't be so grumpy, Severus. I don't see why you would be so upset about this." McGonagall teased.

"Why is Severus grumpy!?" Madame Hooch came strolling into the ward, though she paused when she saw the Headmaster in his muggle t-shirt and shorts, trying to hide behind his dressing gown. "Oh! He's showing off his legs! That's a first!"

Snape growled. "I am doing no such thing! There was an emergency, Hogwarts was melting. I would never…"

"I see. You didn't have time to put on trousers." Hooch held up her hands. "Don't get all snarky with me. I understand. I just came up here to see what all the commotion was about. Glad I did. Never would have thought that Sev here was hiding a great pair of legs under all those robes."

Harry had tears in his eyes from trying to hold in his laughter. Pomfrey had given up trying to examine him, as she was shaking with silent laughter as well. Harry chanced a glance at Snape and finally couldn't hold the laughter back any more. The man was still trying to pull his robe closed around him, and his face was flushed deliciously.

"You shouldn't be so quick to laugh, Mr. Potter."

Harry yelped when the spell hit him and his favorite flannel pjs disappeared. He was wearing a pair of dark purple briefs with teal trimming. He scrambled for the pillow at the head of the bed to cover himself even as his shrunken trunk and wand clattered to the ground from where they had been stowed in his pockets.

"That was uncalled for!"

"Turnabout is fair play." Snape growled, crossing his arms across his chest.

"It's not like I forced you to go romping around in your knickers!"

"You are not one to comment on the femininity of my choice of undergarments, Mr. Potter, considering the only thing yours are lacking are frills."

"Hey! Briefs happen to be very comfortable!"

"It was not the style, but rather the color combination that is suggestive."

Remus coughed loudly, though another chuckle escaped him as he cautiously slid off his bed. "Now, gentlemen... there's no need to be insulting each other's preferences in underwear."

"Shut up, Remus! You are not allowed a say in this argument unless your underwear are on display." Snape growled, a nearly feral grin crossing his face as he casually waved his wand. Remus' worn grey sleep pants disappeared, and the blood drained from Snapes' face when it was revealed that Remus wasn't actually wearing any underwear.

There was a moment of complete silence.

"Oh! Professor Lupin goes commando!" Hermione slapped her hand over her mouth as soon as the words were out, the blood rushing to her face as Neville snorted next to her.

"Good thing too! I haven't seen an arse that cute in a long time." Hooch followed her declaration with a whistle. "Thanks Severus! I'm glad you gave me a chance to see that!"

Remus flushed, but made no move to cover himself as McGonagall and Pomfrey howled with laughter. Instead he put his hands on his hips and mock-scowled as Snape. "This is your fault Severus. Do you know that?"

"Oh! Merlin!" Harry suddenly shrieked with laughter. "Merlin! Severus! You just _pantsed_ Remus!"

Severus was still frozen, his eyes carefully averted from the half-naked man in front of him and he was fighting a smirk. "I suppose I did, didn't I?"

"What was it you were saying earlier? Turnabout is fair play?" Remus grinned, brandishing his own wand.

"Don't you dare!"

"What? Return the favor?" Remus shot a spell at Severus, which the Headmaster blocked. Remus followed immediately with another, which Severus dodged. The third was slightly off target, instead vanishing his t-shirt and revealing a pale, scarred chest. The scars from Nagini danced grotesquely from the left side of his neck to just under his collarbone.

"Just what is going on here!?"

All movement froze at the harsh voice, and everyone turned to see Andromeda standing in front of the fireplace with Teddy in her arms. The green of the floo faded behind her, and her glare was aimed at Remus, who flushed to the roots of his hair.

"I've been waiting for news for two hours! The last I heard, there was a desperate, dangerous situation—the castle was melting. Does anyone come to tell me when the danger has passed? No! I sit there waiting, and waiting and waiting—worried to death! And what are you morons doing? Hexing each other's clothes off! This is unacceptable!"

In a flash, Andromeda whipped out her wand, careful not to jostle Teddy who was still sleeping peacefully on her shoulder. With a wide sweeping motion, she swept her wand over the room and turned on her heel. The next second she disappeared through the floo.

As the green light faded again, the people left in the room squirmed guiltily and suddenly started gasping.

"My pants are gone!"

"Mine are too!"

Severus ducked slightly behind a bed, snagging the sheet off to wrap around his waist. "Well. She was a Black, and a Slytherin. What else do you expect?"

Harry felt the blood rushing to his face even as he double checked that the pillow covered his bits. "Er… I have kind of a dumb question. Am I going to be able to get my pajamas and my pants back? They were kind of my favorite…"

"That is highly unlikely." McGonagall explained. Hooch was standing unconcerned in a pair of floral knickers. She was shaking her head and chuckling.

Remus was still standing awkwardly in the middle of the aisle, completely exposed. His eyes narrowed at Severus wrapping the commandeered sheet up around him, toga-style. "Oh no you don't!"

The Headmaster roared when the sheet vanished, ducking behind the bed and shooting a string of increasingly painful stinging hexes at Remus.

"Now boys!" McGonagall's sternness was somewhat lost as she giggled. "Need I remind you that there are students in the room?"

Both men froze for a second, and Remus flushed. He snatched a sheet off the nearest bed and wrapped it firmly around his waist. Severus grumbled, summoning another sheet from where he was crouched behind the bed.

"Why'd you stop them, Minnie? I was looking forward to the show. If they'd kept going we might have been able to throw some mud at them and made them wrestle!" Hooch sighed dramatically. "Now, we'll never know. I hope you're happy. You might have just lost us a once in a lifetime opportunity." Her grin belied her disappointed tone, however, and she quickly broke down laughing.

McGonagall smirked, sharing a glance with Pomfrey.

"Well. I haven't found any problems." Madame Pomfrey announced. "All of you are in perfect health. You are free to go."

"Go where?" Lavender asked pointedly. "Our chunk of the castle has been completely obliterated."

"The Great Hall will suffice until we figure out alternative sleeping arrangements for the Gryffindor students." Snape explained shortly.

Harry glanced around sheepishly, painstakingly slipping off the bed and making sure everything _sensitive _was covered by the commandeered pillow as he gathered up his trunk and his wand. He fumbled a little as he unshrunk his trunk and started rummaging for some clothes. He grabbed the first pair of pants he found—a pair of blue and grey flannels—struggling to slip them on without revealing himself. When he looked back up, Snape was watching him with an arched eyebrow, and Harry grinned cheekily. "Do you need to borrow some pants, sir?"

Snape glared, but bit back on the scathing comment. "That would be—greatly appreciated, Mr. Potter."

Harry tossed a pair of red sleep pants at the Headmaster, who glowered at the bright red monstrosity—Harry purposely didn't look at the man and instead fished out another pair for Remus—a pair of yellow sleep pants. He grinned at Remus as they heard Severus grumbling behind the curtain about 'bloody Gryffindor colors.'

Remus caught on a moment later, realizing they were the pajamas he had given Harry for his birthday. The older man snickered, quickly disappearing into the bathroom with his own pair of borrowed pants.

Harry bit hard on his lip to keep from snickering when Snape emerged from behind the curtain. The red pants were too small, hugging his thighs in the most deliciously inappropriate of ways—they left next to nothing to the imagination. Harry's mouth went dry, and he swallowed thickly.

"Not a word." Snape snarled. "Would you be so kind as to loan me a shirt as well?"

"Of course, Sir." Harry choked, quickly grapping a black t-shirt and handing it to the man. Snape shrugged off his dressing gown, turning his back to the rest in the room as he pulled the shirt over his head.

A wave of laughter broke out at the sight of the back of the sleep pants—the head of a snarling lion graced the left butt cheek of the pants.

Snape whirled around, glaring at the snickering students and staff. "What?"

"You have a lion on your arse, Severus." Madame Hooch said cheerfully. "Well, good night all. Tonight made me very happy."


End file.
